APR    29  1980 


AN     ESSAY 


IN  AID   OF 


A  GRAMMAR  OF  ASSENT. 


AN    ESSAY 


^^OFPRIN 
APR    20  1< 


A 


^^OlOGiCAL  SE^ 


IN  AID   OF 


A  GRAMMAR  OF  ASSENT. 


BY  y^^ 

JOHN    HENRY    NEWMAN,    D.D., 

Of  the  Oratory. 


Non  in  dialectics  complacuit  Deo  salvum  facere  populum  suum. 

St.  Ambrose. 


New  York  : 

THE  CATHOLIC   PUBLICATION  SOCIETY, 

9  WARREN  STREET. 

1870. 


TO 

EDWARD    BELLASIS, 

SERJEANT   AT   LAW, 

IN    REMEMBRANCE 

OF    A    LONG,    EQUABLE,   SUNNY    FRIENDSHIP; 

IN    GRATITUDE 

FOR    CONTINUAL    KINDNESSES    SHOWN    TO    ME, 

FOR   AN    UNWEARIED     ZEAL    IN    MY    BEHALF, 

FOR    A   TRUST    IN    ME   WHICH     HAS    NEVER   WAVERED, 

AND  A  PROMPT,  EFFECTUAL  SUCCOR  AND  SUPPORT 

IN    TIMES    OF    SPECIAL   TRIAL, 

FROM    HIS    AFFECTIONATE 

J.  H.  N. 

February  21,  1870. 


CONTENTS. 

PART   I. 

ASSENT   AND    APPREHENSION. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Modes  of  holding  and  apprehending  Propositions        .         .        .         i 

§  I.  Modes  of  holding  Propositions         .         .         •         .        .         I 

§  2.  Modes  of  apprehending  Propositions      ....         7 

CHAPTER  n. 
Assent  considered  as  Apprehensive n 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Apprehension  of  Propositions 17 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Notional  and  Real  Assent 34 

§  I.  Notional  Assents 40 

§  2.  Real  Assents 72 

§  3.  Notional  and  Real  Assents  contrasted    ....  86 

CHAPTER  V. 

Apprehensive  Assents  in  Religious  Matters          ....  91 

§1.  Belief  in  One  God 97 

^  2.  Belief  in  the  Holy  Trinity 117 

^3.  Belief  in  Dogmatic  Theology 136 


viii  Contents. 

PART  II 

ASSENT   AND   INFERENCE. 
CHAPTER  VI. 

PAGE 

Assent  considered  as  Unconditional 148 

§  I.  Simple  Assent 150 

^  2.  Complex  Assent 178 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Certitude 200 

§  I.  Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted 200 

§  2.  Indefectibility  of  Certitude 211 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Inference 248 

§  I.  Formal  Inference .248 

§  2.  Informal  Inference 276 

§  3.  Natural  Inference 3i7 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Illative  Sense 330 

§  I.  The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense 333 

§  2.  The  Nature  of  the  Illative  Sense 34° 

§  3.  The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense 347 

CHAPTER  X. 

Inferential  Assents  in  Religious  Matters        .....  373 

§  I.  Natural  Religion 37^ 

§  2.  Revealed  Religion , 398 


CHAPTER  I. 

MODES    OF   HOLDING  AND   APPREHENDING 
PROPOSITIONS. 

§  I.    Modes  of  holding  Propositions. 

I.  Propositions  (consisting  of  a  subject  and  predi- 
cate united  by  the  copula)  may  take  a  categorical, 
conditional,  or  interrogative  form. 

(i)  An  interrogative,  when  they  ask  a  Question, 
(e.  g.  Does  Free-trade  benefit  the  poorer  classses?) 
and  imply  that  possibly  it  does,  and  possibly  it  does 
not. 

(2)  A  conditional,  when  they  express  a  Conclusion 
(e.  g.  Free-trade  therefore  benefits  the  poorer  class- 
es), and  both  imply,  and  imply  their  dependence  on, 
other  propositions. 

(3)  A  categorical,  when  they  simply  make  an 
Assertion  (e.  g.  Free-trade  does  benefit),  and  imply 
the  absence  of  any  condition  or  reservation  of  any 
kind,  looking  neither  before  nor  behind,  as  resting  in 
themselves  and  being  intrinsically  complete. 

These  three  modes  of  shaping  a  proposition,  dis- 
tinct as  they  are  from  each  other,  follow  each  other 
in  natural  sequence.     A  proposition,  which  starts 


2  Modes  of  holding  Propositions. 

with  being  a  Question,  may  become  a  Conclusion,  and 
then  be  changed  into  an  Assertion  ;  but  it  has  of  course 
ceased  to  be  a  question,  so  far  forth  as  it  has  be- 
come a  conclusion,  and  has  rid  itself  of  its  argumen- 
tative form — that  is,  has  ceased  to  be  a  conclusion, — 
so  far  forth  as  it  has  become  an  assertion.  A  ques- 
tion has  not  yet  got  so  far  as  to  be  a  conclusion, 
though  it  is  the  necessary  preliminary  of  a  conclu- 
sion ;  and  an  assertion  has  got  beyond  being  a  mere 
conclusion,  though  it  is  the  natural  issue  of  a  con- 
clusion. Their  correlation  is  the  measure  of  their 
distinction  one  from  another. 

No  one  is  likely  to  deny  that  a  question  is  distinct 
both  from  a  conclusion  and  from  an  assertion  ;  and 
an  assertion  will  be  found  to  be  equally  distinct  from 
a  conclusion.  For,  if  we  rest  our  affirmation  on  ar- 
guments, this  shows  that  we  are  not  asserting  ;  and, 
when  w^e  assert,  we  do  not  argue.  An  assertion  is 
as  distinct  from  a  conclusion,  as  a  word  of  command 
is  from  a  persuasion  or  recommendation.  Com- 
mand and  assertion,  as  such,  both  of  them,  in  their 
different  Avays,  dispense  with,  discard,  ignore  ante- 
cedents of  any  kind,  though  antecedents  may  have 
been  a  sine  qua  non  condition  of  their  being  elicited. 
They  both  carry  with  them  the  pretension  of  being 
personal  acts. 

In  insistins:  on  the  intrinsic  distinctness  of  these 
three  modes  of  putting  a  proposition,  I  am  not  main- 
taining that  they  may  not  co-exist  as  regards  one 
and  the  same  subject.  For  what  we  have  already 
concluded,  we  may,  if  Ave  will,  make  a  question  of; 
and  what  we  are  asserting,  we  may,  of  course,  con- 
clude over  again.     We  may  assert  to  one  man,  and 


Modes  of  holding  Propositions.  3 

conclude  to  another,  and  ask  of  a  third  ;  still,  when 
we  assert,  we  do  not  conclude,  and,  when  we  assert 
or  conclude,  we  do  not  question. 

2.  The  internal  act  of  holding-  propositions  is  for  the 
most  part  analogous  to  the  external  act  of  enunciating 
them  ;  as  there  are  three  ways  of  enunciating,  so  are 
there  three  ways  of  holding  them,  each  corresponding 
to  each.  These  three  mental  acts  are  Doubt,  Infer- 
ence, and  Assent.  A  question  is  the  expression  of  a 
doubt ;  a  conclusion  is  the  expression  of  an  act  of 
inference  ;  and  an  assertion  is  the  expression  of  an  act 
of  assent.  To  doubt,  for  instance,  is  not  to  see  one's 
way  to  hold  that  Free-trade  is  or  is  not  a  benefit ;  to 
infer,  is  to  hold  on  sufficient  grounds  that  Free-trade 
may,  must,  or  should  be  a  benefit ;  to  assent  to  the 
proposition,  is  to  hold  that  Free-trade  is  a  benefit. 

Moreover,  propositions,  while  they  are  the  material 
of  these  three  enunciations,  are  the  objects  of  the  three 
corresponding  mental  acts  ;  and  as  without  a  proposi- 
tion there  cannot  be  a  question,  conclusion,  or  asser- 
tion, so  without  a  proposition  there  is  nothing  to  doubt 
about,  nothing  to  infer,  nothing  to  assent  to.  Mental 
acts  of  whatever  kind  presuppose  their  objects. 

And,  since  the  three  enunciations  are  distinct  from 
each  other,  therefore  the  three  mental  acts  also, 
Doubt,  Inference,  and  Assent,  are,  with  reference  to  one 
and  the  same  proposition,  distinct  from  each  other ; 
else,  why  should  their  several  enunciations  be  distinct  ? 
And  indeed  it  is  very  evident,  that,  so  far  forth  as  we 
infer,  we  do  not  doubt,  and  that,  when  we  assent,  we 
are  not  inferring,  and,  when  we  doubt,  we  cannot 
assent. 


4  Modes  of  holding  Propositions. 

And  in  fact,  these  three  modes  of  entertaining  pro- 
positions,— doubting-  them,  inferring  them,  assenting 
to  them,  are  so  distinct  in  their  action,  that,  when 
they  are  severally  carried  out  into  the  intellectual 
habits  of  an  individual,  they  become  the  principles 
and  notes  of  three  distinct  states  or  characters  of 
mind.  For  instance,  in  the  case  of  Revealed  Religion, 
according  as  one  or  other  of  these  is  paramount  within 
him,  a  man  is  a  sceptic  as  regards  it;  or  a  philoso- 
pher, thinking  it  more  or  less  probable  considered  as 
a  conclusion  of  reason  ;  or  he  has  an  unhesitating  faith 
in  it,  and  is  recognized  as  a  believer.  If  he  simply 
disbelieves,  or  dissents,  he  is  assenting  to  the  contra- 
dictory of  the  thesis,  viz.  that  there  is  no  Revelation. 

Many  minds  of  course  there  are,  which  are  not 
under  the  predominant  influence  of  any  one  of  the 
three.  Thus  men  are  to  be  found  of  irrcflective, 
impulsive,  unsettled,  or  again  of  acute  minds,  who 
do  not  know  what  they  believe  and  what  they  do 
not,  and  who  may  be  by  turns  sceptics,  inquirers,  oi 
believers ;  who  doubt,  assent,  infer,  and  doubt  again, 
according  to  the  circumstances  of  the  season.  Nay 
further,  in  all  minds  there  is  a  certain  co-existence  of 
these  distinct  acts ;  that  is,  of  two  of  them,  for  we  can 
at  once  infer  and  assent,  though  we  cannot  at  once 
either  assent  or  infer  and  also  doubt.  Indeed,  in  a 
multitude  of  cases  we  infer  truths,  or  apparent  truths, 
before,  and  while,  and  after  we  assent  to  them. 

Lastly,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  these  three  acts  are 
all  natural  to  the  mind ;  I  mean,  that,  in  exercising 
them,  we  are  not  violating  the  laws  of  our  nature,  as 
if  they  were  in  themselves  an  extravagance  or  Aveak- 
ness,  but  are  acting  according  to  it,  according  to  its 


Modes  of  holding  Pi^opositions,  5 

legitimate  constitution.  Undoubtedly,  it  is  possible, 
it  is  common,  in  the  particular  case,  to  err  in  the  exer- 
cise of  Doubt,  of  Inference,  and  of  Assent ;  that  is,  we 
ma}^  be  withholding  a  judgment  about  propositions 
on  which  we  have  the  means  of  coming  to  some  con- 
clusion ;  or  we  may  be  assenting  to  propositions 
which  we  ought  to  receive  only  on  the  credit  of  their 
premisses,  or  again  to  keep  ourselves  in  suspense 
about ;  but  such  errors  of  the  individual  belong  to 
the  individual,  not  to  his  nature,  and  cannot  avail 
to  forfeit  for  him  his  natural  right,  under  proper 
circumstances,  to  doubt,  or  to  infer,  or  to  assent. 
We  do  but  fulfil  our  nature  in  doubting,  inferring, 
and  assenting ;  and  our  duty  is,  not  to  abstain  from 
the  exercise  of  any  function  of  our  nature,  but  to  do 
what  is  in  itself  right  rightly. 

3.  So  far  in  general : — in  this  Essay  I  treat  of  pro- 
positions only  in  their  bearing  upon  concrete  matter, 
and  I  am  mainly  concerned  Avith  Assent ;  with  Infer- 
ence, in  its  relation  to  Assent,  and  only  such  inference 
as  is  not  demonstration  ;  with  Doubt  hardly  at  all.  I 
dismiss  Doubt  with  one  observation.  I  have  here 
spoken  of  it  simply  as  a  suspense  of  m^ind,  in  which 
sense  of  the  word,  to  have  ''  no  doubt"  about  a  thesis 
is  equivalent  to  one  or  other  of  the  two  remaining 
acts,  either  to  inferring  it  or  else  assenting  to  it.  How- 
ever, the  word  is  often  taken  to  mean  the  deliberate 
recognition  of  a  thesis  as  being  uncertain  ;  in  this  sense 
Doubt  is  nothing  else  than  an  assent,  viz.  an  assent  to 
a  proposition  inconsistent  with  the  thesis,  as  I  have 
already  noticed  in  the  case  of  Disbelief. 

Confining  myself  to  the  subject  of  Assent  and  In- 


6  Modes  of  holding  Pivpositions, 

ference,  I  observe  two  points  of  contrast  between 
them,  considered  as  modes  of  holding  propositions. 

The  first  I  have  already  noted.  Assent  is  uncon- 
ditional ;  else,  it  is  not  really  represented  by  assertion. 
Inference  is  conditional,  because  a  conclusion  at  least 
implies  the  assumption  of  premisses,  and  still  more, 
because  in  concrete  matter,  on  which  I  am  engaged, 
demonstration  is  impossible. 

The  second  has  regard  to  the  apprehension  neces- 
sary for  holding  a  proposition.  We  cannot  assent  to 
a  proposition,  without  some  inteUigent  apprehension 
of  it ;  whereas  we  need  not  understand  it  at  all  in  or- 
der to  infer  it.  We  cannot  give  our  assent  to  the 
proposition  that  "  x.  is  z,"  till  wx  are  told  something 
about  one  or  other  of  the  terms ;  but  w^e  can  infer,  if 
"  X  is  y,  and  y  is  z,  that  x  is  z,"  v/hether  we  know  the 
meaning  of  x  and  z  or  no. 

These  points  of  contrast  and  their  results  will  come 
before  us  in  due  course :  here,  for  a  time  leaving  the 
consideration  of  the  modes  of  holding  propositions,  I 
proceed  to  inquire  into  what  is  to  be  understood  by 
apprehending  them. 


Modes  of  apprehending  Propositions. 


§  2.  Modes  of  apprehending  Propositions. 

By  our  apprehension  of  propositions  I  mean  our  im- 
position of  a  sense  on  the  terms  of  which  they  are  com- 
posed. Now  what  do  the  terms  of  a  proposition,  the 
subject  and  predicate,  stand  for?  Sometimes  they 
stand  for  certain  ideas  existing  in  our  own  minds,  and 
not  outside  of  them  ;  sometimes  for  things  simply  ex- 
ternal to  us,  brought  home  to  us  through  the  experi- 
ences and  informations  we  have  of  them.  All  things 
in  the  exterior  world  are  unit  and  individual,  and  are 
nothing  else;  but  the  mind  not  only  contemplates 
those  unit  reaUties,  as  they  exist,  but  has  the  gift,  by 
an  act  of  creation,  to  bring  before  it  abstractions  and 
generalizations,  which  have  no  existence,  no  counter- 
part, out  of  it. 

Now  there  are  propositions,  in  which  one  or  both 
of  the  terms  are  common  nouns,  as  standing  for  what 
is  abstract,  general,  and  non-existing,  such  as  "  Man  is 
an  animal,  some  men  are  learned,  an  Apostle  is  a  cre- 
ation of  Christianity,  a  line  is  length  without  breadth, 
to  err  is  human,  to  forgive  divine."  These  I  shall  call 
notional  propositions,  and  the  apprehension  with 
which  we  infer  or  assent  to  them,  notional. 

And  there  are  other  propositions,  which  are  com- 
posed of  singular  nouns,  and  of  which  the  terms  stand 


8  Modes  of  apprehending  Propositions. 

for  things  external  to  us,  unit  and  individual,  as  "  Phi- 
lip was  the  father  of  Alexander,"  ''the  earth  goes 
round  the  sun,"  "the  Apostles  first  preached  to  the 
Jews;"  and  these  I  shall  call  real  propositions,  and 
their  apprehension  real. 

There  are  then  two  apprehensions  or  interpreta- 
tions of  propositions,  notional  and  real. 

Next  I  observe,  that  the  same  proposition  may  ad- 
mit of  both  of  these  interpretations  at  once,  having  a 
notional  sense  as  used  by  one  man,  and  a  real  as  used 
by  another.  Thus  a  schoolboy  may  perfectly  appre- 
hend, and  construe  with  spirit,  the  poet's  words, 
''  Dum  Capitolium  scandet  cum  tacita  Virgine  Ponti- 
fex;"  he  has  seen  steep  hills,  flights  of  steps,  and 
processions ;  he  knows  what  enforced  silence  is ; 
also  he  knows  all  about  the  Pontifex  INIaximus,  and 
the  Vestal  Virgins ;  he  has  an  abstract  hold  upon 
every  word  of  the  description,  yet  without  the  words 
therefore  bringing  before  him  at  all  the  living  imagp 
which  they  would  light  up  in  the  mind  of  a  contem- 
porary of  the  poet,  who  had  seen  the  fact  described, 
or  of  a  modern  historian  Avho  had  duly  informed  him- 
self in  the  religious  phenomena,  and  by  meditation  had 
realized  the  Roman  ceremonial,  of  the  age  of  Augus- 
tus. Again,  "  Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori," 
is  a  mere  commonplace,  a  terse  expression  of  abstrac 
tions  in  the  mind  of  the  poet  himself,  if  Philippi  is  to 
be  the  index  of  his  patriotism,  whereas  it  would  be  the 
record  of  experiences,  a  sovereign  dogma,  a  grand  as- 
piration, inflaming  the  imagination,  piercing  the  heart, 
of  a  Wallace  or  a  Tell. 

As  the  multitude  of  common  nouns  have  originally 
been  singular,  it  is  not  surprising  that  mxany  of  them 


Modes  of  apprehending  Propositi 


ons. 


should  so  remain  still  in  the  apprehension  of  particu- 
lar individuals.  In  the  proposition  "  Sugar  is  sweet," 
the  predicate  is  a  common  noun  as  used  by  those  who 
have  compared  sugar  in  their  thoughts  with  honey  or 
glycerine ;  but  it  may  be  the  only  distinctively  sweet 
thing  in  the  experience  of  a  child,  and  may  be  used  by 
him  as  a  noun  singular.  The  first  time  that  he  tastes 
sugar,  if  his  nurse  says,  "  Sugar  is  sweet "  in  a  notion- 
al sense,  meaning  by  sugar,  lump-sugar,  powdered, 
brown,  and  candied,  and  by  sweet,  a  specific  flavor  or 
scent  which  is  found  in  many  articles  of  food  and 
many  flowers,  he  may  answer  in  a  real  sense,  and  in 
an  individual  proposition,  ''Sugar  is  sweet,"  meaning 
''this  sugar  is  this  sweet  thing." 

Thirdly,  in  the  same  mind  and  at  the  same  time,  the 
same  proposition  may  express  both  what  is  notional 
and  what  is  real.  When  a  lecturer  in  mechanics  or 
chemistry  shows  to  his  class  by  experiment  some  phy- 
sical fact,  he  and  his  hearers  at  once  enunciate  it  as  an 
individual  thing  before  their  eyes,  and  also  as  gener- 
alized by  their  minds  into  a  law  of  nature.  When 
Virgil  says,  "  Varium  et  mutabile  semper  foemina,"  he 
both  sets  before  his  readers  what  he  means  to  be  a 
general  truth,  and  at  the  same  time  appHes  it  individ- 
ually to  the  instance  of  Dido.  He  expresses  at  once 
a  notion  and  a  fact. 

Of  these  two  modes  of  apprehending  propositions, 
notional  and  real,  real  is  the  stronger ;  I  mean  by 
stronger  the  more  vivid  and  forcible.  It  is  so  to  be 
accounted  for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  concerned  with 
what  is  real  or  is  taken  for  real ;  for  intellectual  ideas 
cannot  compete  in  effectiveness  with  the  experience 
of   concrete   facts.     Various   proverbs   and   maxims 


lo        Modes  of  apprehending  Propositioiis. 

sanction  me  in  so  speaking,  such  as,  "  Facts  are  stub- 
born things,"  "  Experientia  docet,"  ''  Seeing  is  be- 
heving ;"  and  the  popular  contrast  between  theory 
and  practice,  reason  and  sight,  philosophy  and  faith. 
Not  that  real  apprehension,  as  such,  impels  to  action, 
any  more  than  notional ;  but  it  excites  and  stimulates 
the  affections  and  passions,  by  bringing  facts  home 
to  them  as  motive  causes.  Thus  it  indirectly  brings 
about  what  the  apprehension  of  large  principles,  of 
general  laws,  or  of  moral  obligations,  never  could 
effect. 

Reverting  to  the  two  modes  of  holding  proposi- 
tions, conditional  and  unconditional,  which  was  the 
subject  of  the  former  Section,  that  is,  inferences  and 
assents,  I  observe  that  inferences,  which  are  condi- 
tional acts,  are  especially  cognate  to  notional  appre- 
hension, and  assents,  which  are  unconditional,  to  real. 
This  distinction,  too,  will  come  before  us  in  the  course 
of  the  following  chapters. 

And  now  I  have  stated  the  main  subjects  of  which 
I  propose  to  treat ;  viz.  the  distinctions  in  the  use  of 
propositions,  which  I  have  been  drawing,  and  the 
questions  which  those  distinctions  involve. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ASSENT   CONSIDERED   AS   APPREHENSIVE. 

I  HAVE  already  said  of  an  act  of  Assent,  first,  that  it  is 
in  itself  the  absolute  acceptance  of  a  proposition  with- 
out any  condition ;  and  next  that  it  presupposes,  in 
order  to  its  being  made,  the  condition,  not  only  of 
some  previous  inference  in  favor  of  the  proposition, 
but  especially  of  some  concomitant  apprehension  of 
its  terms.  I  proceed  to  the  latter  of  these  two  sub- 
jects ;  that  is,  of  Assent  considered  as  apprehensive, 
leaving  the  discussion  of  Assent  as  unconditional  for 
a  later  place  in  this  Essay. 

By  apprehension  of  a  proposition,  I  mean,  as  I  have 
already  said,  our  interpretation  of  the  terms  of  which 
it  is  composed.  When  we  infer,  we  consider  a  pro- 
position in  relation  to  other  propositions ;  when  we 
assent  to  it,  we  consider  it  for  its  own  sake  and  in  its 
intrinsic  sense.  That  sense  must  be  in  some  degree 
known  to  us ;  else,  we  do  but  assert  the  proposition, 
we  in  no  wise  assent  to  it.  Assent  I  have  described 
to  be  a  mental  assertion ;  in  its  very  nature  then  it  is 
of  the  mind,  and  not  of  the  Ups.  We  can  assert  with- 
out assenting ;  assent  is  more  than  assertion  just  by 
this  much,  that  it  is  accompanied  by  some  apprehen- 


12 


Assent  consideixd  as  appi-ehensive. 


sion  of  the  matter  asserted.  This  is  plain ;  and  the 
only  question  is,  what  measure  of  apprehension  is  suf- 
ficient? 

And  the  answer  to  this  question  is  equally  plain : — 
it  is  the  predicate  of  the  proposition  which  must  be 
apprehended.     In  a  proposition  one  term  is  predicated 
of  another;  the  subject  is  referred  to  the  predicate, 
and  the  predicate  gives  us  information  about  the  sub- 
ject;— therefore  to  apprehend  the  proposition  is  to 
have  that  information,  and  to  assent  to  it  is  to  acqui- 
esce in  it  as  true.      Therefore  I  apprehend  a  proposi- 
tion, v/hen  I  apprehend  its  predicate.     The  subject  it- 
self need  not  be  apprehended  per  se  in  order  to  a 
genuine  assent :  for  it  is  the  very  thing  which  the  pre- 
dicate has  to  elucidate,  and  therefore  by  its  formal 
place  in  the  proposition,  so  far  as  it  is  the  subject,  it  is 
something  unknown,  something  which  the  predicate 
makes   known;    but   the   predicate   cannot   make   it 
known,  unless  it  is  knov/n  itself.     Let  the  question 
be,  ''What  is  Trade?"  here  is  a  distinct  profession  of 
ignorance  about  "Trade;"    and  let  the  answer  be, 
"Trade  is  an  interchange    of   goods;" — trade   then 
need  not  be  known,  as  a  condition  of  assent  to  the 
proposition,  except  so  far  as  the  account  of  it  which 
is  given  in  answer,  "  the  interchange  of  goods,"  makes 
it  known ;  and  that  must  be  apprehended  in  order  to 
make  it  known.     The  very  drift  of  the  proposition  is  to 
tell  us  something  about  the  subject ;  but  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  our  knowledge  of  the  subject,  whatever  it  is, 
should  go  beyond  what  the  predicate  tells  us  about  it. 
Further  than  this  the  subject  need  not  be  apprehend- 
ed :  as  far  as  this  it  must ;  it  will  not  be  apprehended 
thus  far,  unless  we  apprehend  the  predicate. 


Assent  considered  as  apprehensive.  13 

If  a  child  asks,  ^'  What  is  kicern?"  and  is  answered, 
Lucern  is  medicago  sativa,  of  the  class  Diadelphia 
and  order  Decandria ;"  and  henceforth  says  obediently, 
"  Lucern  is  medicago  sativa,"  etc.,  he  makes  no  act  of 
assent  to  the  proposition  which  he  enunciates,  but 
speaks  like  a  parrot.  But,  if  he  is  told,  ''  Lucern  is 
food  for  cattle,"  and  is  shown  cows  grazing  in  a 
meadow,  then  though  he  never  saw  lucern,  and  knows 
nothing  at  all  about  it,  besides  what  he  has  learned 
from  the  predicate,  he  is  in  a  position  to  make  as 
genuine  an  assent  to  the  proposition  "  Lucern  is  food 
for  cattle,"  on  the  word  of  his  informant,  as  if  he  knew 
ever  so  much  more  about  lucern.  And  as  soon  as  he 
has  got  as  far  as  this,  he  may  go  further.  He  now 
knows  enough  about  lucern,  to  enable  him  to  appre- 
hend propositions  which  have  lucern  for  their  predi- 
cate, should  they  come  before  him  for  assent,  as, 
"  That  field  is  sown  with  lucern,"  or  ''  Clover  is  not 
lucern." 

Yet  there  is  a  way  in  which  the  child  can  give  an 
indirect  assent  even  to  a  proposition,  in  which  he 
understood  neither  subject  nor  predicate.  He  can- 
not indeed  in  that  case  assent  to  the  proposition 
itself,  but  he  can  assent  to  its  truth.  He  cannot  do 
more  than  assert  that  '^  Lucern  is  medicago  sativa," 
but  he  can  assent  to  the  proposition,  "  That  lucern  is 
medicago  sativa  is  true."  For  here  is  a  predicate 
which  he  sufficiently  apprehends,  what  is  inapprehen- 
sible in  the  proposition  being  confined  to  the  subject. 
Thus  the  child's  mother  might  teach  him  to  repeat  a 
passage  of  Shakespeare,  and  when  he  asked  the  mean- 
ing of  a  particular  line,  such  as  ''  The  quality  of 
mercy  is  not  strained,"  or  "  Virtue  itself  turns  vice, 


14  Assent  considered  as  apprehensive, 

being  misapplied,"  she  might  answer  him  that  he  was 
too  young  to  understand  it  yet,  but  that  it  had  a 
beautiful  meaning,  as  he  would  one  day  know  :  and 
he,  in  faith  on  her  word,  might  give  his  assent  to 
such  a  proposition, — not,  that  is,  to  the  line  itself  which 
he  had  got  by  heart,  and  which  would  be  beyond 
him,  but  to  its  being  true,  beautiful,  and  good. 

Of  course  I  am  speaking  of  assent  itself,  and  its  in- 
trinsic conditions,  not  of  the  ground  or  motive  of  it. 
Whether  there  is  an  obligation  upon  the  child  to  trust 
his  mother,  or  whether  there  are  cases  where  such 
trust  is  impossible,  are  irrelevant  questions;  and  I 
notice  them  in  order  to  put  them  aside.  I  am  exam- 
ining the  act  of  assent  itself,  not  its  preliminaries,  and 
I  have  specified  three  directions,  which  among  others 
the  assent  may  take,  viz.  assent  immediately  to  a  pro- 
position, assent  to  its  truth,  and  assent  both  to  its 
truth  and  to  the  ground  of  its  being  true  together, — 
''  Lucern  is  food  for  cattle," — ''  That  lucern  is  medi- 
cago  sativa  is  true," — and  "  My  mother's  word,  that 
lucern  is  medicago  sativa,  and  is  food  for  cattle,  is 
the  truth."  Now  in  each  of  these  there  is  one  and 
the  same  absolute  adhesion  of  the  mind  to  the  pro- 
position, on  the  part  of  the  child ;  he  assents  to  the  ap- 
prehensible proposition,  and  to  the  truth  of  the  inap- 
prehensible, and  to  the  veracity  of  his  mother  in  her 
assertion  of  the  inapprehensible.  I  say  the  same 
absolute  adhesion,  because,  unless  he  did  assent  with- 
out any  reserve  to  the  proposition  that  lucern  was 
food  for  cattle,  or  to  the  accuracy  of  the  botanical 
name  and  description  of  it,  he  would  not  be  giving  an 
unreserved  assent  to  his  mother's  word:  yet,  though 
these  assents  are  all  unreserved,  still  they  certainly 


Assent  considered  as  apprehensive,         15 

differ  in  strength,  and  this  is  the  next  point  to  which 
I  wish  to  draw  attention.  It  is  indeed  plain,  that, 
though  the  child  assents  to  his  mother's  veracity, 
without  perhaps  being  conscious  of  his  own  act,  never- 
theless that  particular  assent  of  his  has  a  force  and  life 
in  it  which  the  other  assents  have  not,  in  proportion  as 
he  apprehends  the  proposition,  which  is  the  subject  of 
it,  with  greater  keenness  and  energy  than  belongs  to 
his  apprehension  of  the  others.  Her  veracity  and  au- 
thority is  to  him  no  abstract  truth  or  item  of  general 
knowledge,  but  is  bound  up  with  that  image  and  love 
of  her  person  which  is  part  of  himself,  and  makes  a 
direct  claim  on  him  for  his  summary  assent  to  her 
general  teachings. 

Accordingly,  he  would  not  hesitate  to  say,  did  his 
years  admit  of  it,  that  he  would  lay  down  his  life  in 
defence  of  his  mother's  veracity.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  would  not  make  such  a  profession  in  the  case  of  the 
propositions,  "  Lucern  is  food  for  cattle,"  or  "  That 
lucern  is  medicago  sativa  is  true ;"  and  yet  it  is  clear 
too,  that,  if  he  did  in  truth  assent  to  these  propositions, 
he  would  have  to  die  for  them  also,  rather  than  deny 
them,  when  it  came  to  the  point,  unless  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  tell  a  falsehood.  That  he  w(^uld  have  to 
die  for  all  three  propositions  severally  rather  than 
deny  them,  shows  the  completeness  and  absoluteness 
of  assent  in  its  very  nature  ;  that  he  would  not  spon- 
taneously challenge  so  severe  a  trial  in  the  case  of 
two  out  of  three  particular  acts  of  assent,  illus- 
trates in  what  sense  one  assent  may  be  stronger  than 
another. 

It  appears  then,  that,  in  assenting  to  propositions, 
an  apprehension  of  their  terms  is  not  only  necessary 


1 6        Assent  considered  as  apprehen  sive, 

to  assent,  as  such,  but  also  gives  a  distinct  character 
to  its  acts.  If  therefore  we  would  know  more  about 
Assent,  we  must  know  more  about  the  apprehension 
which  accompanies  it.  Accordingly  to  the  subject  of 
Apprehension  I  proceed. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  APPREHENSION   OF   PROPOSITIONS. 

1  SAID  in  my  Introductory  Chapter  that  there  can  be 
no  assent  to  a  proposition,  without  some  sort  of  appre- 
hension of  its  terms ;  next,  that  there  are  two  modes 
of  apprehension,  notional  and  real ;  thirdly,  that,  while 
assent  may  be  given  to  a  proposition  on  either  appre- 
hension of  it,  still  its  acts  are  elicited  more  heartily  and 
forcibly,  Avhen  they  are  made  upon  real  apprehension 
which  has  things  for  its  objects,  than  when  they  are 
made  in  favor  of  notions  and  with  a  notional  apprehen- 
sion. The  first  of  these  three  points  I  have  just  been 
discussing ;  now  I  will  proceed  to  the  second,  viz.  the 
two  modes  of  apprehending  propositions,  leaving  the 
third  for  the  chapters  which  follow. 

I  have  used  the  word  apprcJicnsio7t^  and  not  under- 
standing, because  the  latter  word  is  of  uncertain  mean- 
ing, standing  sometimes  for  the  faculty  or  act  of  con- 
ceiving a  proposition,  sometimes  for  that  of  compre- 
hending it,  neither  of  which  come  into  the  sense  of 
apprcJiension.  It  is  possible  to  apprehend  without 
understanding.  I  apprehend  what  is  meant  by  say- 
ing that  John  is  Richard's  wife's  father's  aunt's  hus- 
band, but,  if  I  am  unable  so  to  take  in  these  succes- 


1 8  The  appreJie7ision  of  Propositions. 

sive  relationships  as  to  understand  the  upshot  of 
the  whole,  viz.  that  John  is  great-uncle-in-law  to 
Richard,  I  cannot  be  said  to  comprehend  the  proposi- 
tion. In  like  manner,  I  may  take  a  just  view  of  a 
man's  conduct,  and  therefore  apprehend  it,  and  yet 
may  profess  that  I  cannot  understand  it;  that  is,  I 
have  not  the  key  to  it,  and  do  not  see  its  consistency  in 
detail :  I  have  no  just  conception  of  it.  Apprehension 
then  is  simply  an  understanding  of  the  idea  or  fact 
which  a  proposition  enunciates.  ''  Pride  will  have  a 
fall;"  ''Napoleon  died  at  St.  Helena;"  I  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  the  sentiment  contained  in  the 
former  of  these,  or  the  fact  declared  in  the  latter;  that 
is,  I  apprehend  them  both. 

Now  apprehension,  as  I  have  said,  has  two  subject- 
matters  : — according  as  language  expresses  things  ex- 
ternal to  us,  or  our  own  thoughts,  so  is  apprehension 
real  or  notional.  It  is  notional  in  the  grammarian,  it 
is  real  in  the  experimentalist.  The  grammarian  has 
to  determine  the  force  of  words  and  phrases ;  he  has 
to  master  the  structure  of  sentences  and  the  composi- 
tion of  paragraphs ;  he  has  to  compare  language  with 
language,  to  ascertain  the  common  ideas  expressed 
under  different  idiomatic  forms,  and  to  achieve  the 
difficult  work  of  recasting  the  mind  of  an  original 
author  in  the  mould  of  a  translation.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  philosopher  or  experimentalist  aims  at 
investigating,  questioning,  ascertaining  facts,  causes, 
effects,  actions,  qualities :  these  are  things,  and  he 
makes  his  words  distinctly  subordinate  to  these,  as 
means  to  an  end.  The  primary  duty  of  a  literary 
man  is  to  have  clear  conceptions,  and  to  be  exact  and 
intelligible  in  expressing  them  ;  but  in  a  philosopher 


The  appre/iension  of  Propositiojis.  1 9 

it  is  even  a  merit  to  be  not  altogether  vague,  inchoate, 
and  obscure  in  his  teaching,  and  if  he  fails  even  of 
this  low  standard  of  language,  we  remind  ourselves 
that  his  obscurity  perhaps  is  owing  to  his  depth.  No 
power  of  words  in  a  lecturer  v/ould  be  sufficient  to 
make  psychology  easy  to  his  hearers ;  if  they  are  to 
profit  by  him,  they  must  throw  their  minds  into  the 
matters  in  discussion,  must  accompany  his  treatment 
of  them  Avith  an  active,  personal  concurrence,  and  in- 
terpret for  themselves,  as  he  proceeds,  the  dim  sug- 
gestions and  adumbrations  of  objects,  which  he  has  a 
right  to  presuppose  as  images  existing  in  their  appre- 
hension as  well  as  in  his  own. 

In  something  of  a  parallel  way,  it  is  the  least  par- 
donable fault  in  an  Orator  to  fail  in  clearness  of  style, 
and  the  most  pardonable  fault  of  a  Poet. 

So  again,  an  Economist  is  dealing  with  facts ;  what- 
ever there  is  of  theory  in  his  work  professes  to  be 
founded  on  facts,  by  facts  alone  must  his  sense  be 
interpreted,  and  to  those  only  who  are  well  furnished 
with  the  necessary  facts  does  he  address  himself;  yet 
a  clever  schoolboy,  from  a  thorough  grammatical 
knowledge  of  both  languages,  might  turn  into  English 
a  French  treatise  on  national  wealth,  produce,  con- 
sumption, labor,  profits,  measures  of  value,  public 
debt,  and  the  circulating  medium,  with  a  sufficient 
apprehension  of  what  it  was  that  his  author  was  stat- 
ing for  the  use  of  an  English  reader,  while  he  had  not 
the  faintest  conception  what  the  treatise,  which  he 
was  translating,  really  determined.  The  man  uses 
language  as  the  vehicle  of  things,  and  the  boy  of 
abstractions. 

Hence  in  literary  examinations,  it  is  a  test  ot  good 


20  The  apprehension  of  Propositions. 

scholarship  to  be  able  to  construe  aright,  without  the 
aid  of  understanding  the  sentiment,  action,  or  histori- 
cal occurrence  conveyed  in  the  passage  thus  accu- 
rately rendered,  let  it  be  a  battle  in  Livy,  or  some 
subtle  train  of  thought  in  Virgil  or  Pindar.  And  those 
who  have  acquitted  themselves  best  in  the  trial,  will 
often  be  disposed  to  think  they  have  most  notably 
failed,  for  the  very  reason  that  they  have  been  too 
busy  with  the  grammar  of  each  sentence,  as  it  came, 
to  have  been  able,  as  they  construed  on,  to  enter  into 
the  facts  or  the  feelings,  which,  unknown  to  them- 
selves, they  were  bringing  out  of  it. 

To  take  a  very  different  instance  of  this  contrast  be- 
tween notions  and  facts ; — pathology  and  medicine,  in 
the  interests  of  science,  and  as  a  protection  to  the 
practitioner,  veil  the  shocking  realities  of  disease  and 
physical  suffering  under  a  notional  phraseology,  under 
the  abstract  terms  of  debility,  distress,  irritability, 
paroxysm,  and  a  host  of  Greek  and  Latin  words. 
The  arts  of  medicine  and  surgery  are  necessarily 
experimental ;  but  for  writing  and  conversing  on 
these  subjects  they  require  to  be  stripped  of  the  asso- 
ciation of  the  facts  from  Avhich  they  are  derived. 

Such  are  the  two  modes  of  apprehension.  The 
terms  of  a  proposition  do  or  do  not  stand  for  things. 
If  they  do,  then  they  are  singular  terms,  for  all  things 
that  are,  are  units.  But  if  they  do  not  stand  for 
things  they  must  stand  for  notions,  and  are  common 
terms.  Singular  nouns  come  from  experience,  com- 
mon from  abstraction.  The  apprehension  of  the 
former  I  call  real,  and  of  the  latter  notional.  Now 
let  us  look  at  this  difference  between  them  more 
narrowly. 


The  apprehension  of  Pivpositions.  2 1 

I.  Real  Apprehension  is,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  first 
instance  an  experience  or  information  about  the  con- 
crete. Now,  when  these  informations  are  in  fact  pre- 
sented to  us,  that  is,  when  they  are  directly  subjected 
to  our  bodily  senses  or  our  mental  sensations,  as  when 
we  say,  ''  The  sun  shines,"  or  '^  The  prospect  is  charm- 
ing," or  indirectly  by  means  of  a  picture  or  even  a 
narrative,  then  there  is  no  difficulty  in  determining- 
what  is  meant  by  saying  that  our  enunciation  of  a  pro- 
position concerning  them  implies  an  apprehension  of 
things,  because  we  can  actually  point  out  the  objects 
which  they  indicate.  But  supposing  those  things  are 
no  longer  before  us,  supposing  they  have  passed 
beyond  our  field  of  view,  or  the  book  is  closed  in 
which  the  description  of  them  occurs,  how  can  an 
apprehension  of  things  be  said  to  remain  to  us  ?  It 
remains  on  our  minds  by  means  of  the  faculty  of  mem- 
ory. Memory  consists  in  a  present  imagination  of 
things  that  are  past ;  memory  retains  the  impressions 
and  likenesses  of  what  they  were  when  before  us; 
and  when  we  make  use  of  the  proposition  which 
refers  to  them,  it  supplies  us  with  objects  by  which  to 
interpret  it.  They  are  things  still,  as  being  the  reflec- 
tions of  things  in  a  mental  mirror. 

Hence  the  poet  calls  memory  "the  mind's  eye."  I 
am  in  a  foreign  country  among  unfamihar  sights ;  at 
will  I  am  able  to  conjure  up  before  me  the  vision  of 
my  home,  and  all  that  belongs  to  it,  its  rooms  and 
their  furniture,  its  books,  its  inmates,  their  counte- 
nances, looks,  and  movements.  I  see  those  who  once 
were  there  and  are  no  more  ;  past  scenes,  and  the  very 
expression  of  the  features,  and  the  tones  of  the  voices, 
of  those  who  took  part  in  them,  in  a  time  of  trial  or 


22  The  apprehension  of  Ptopositio^is, 

difficulty.  I  create  nothing ;  I  see  the  facsimiles  of 
facts ;  and  of  these  facsimiles  the  words  and  proposi- 
tions which  I  use  concerning  them  are  from  habitual 
association  the  proper  or  the  sole  expression. 

And  so  again,  I  may  have  seen  a  celebrated  paint- 
ing, or  some  great  pageant,  or  some  public  man ;  and 
I  have  on  my  memory  stored  up  and  ready  at  hand, 
but  latent,  an  impress  more  or  less  distinct  of  that  ex- 
perience. The  words  "  the  Madonna  di  S.  Sisto,"  or 
''  the  last  Coronation,"  or  ''  the  Duke  of  Wellington," 
have  power  to  revive  that  impress  of  it.  Memory  has 
to  do  with  individual  things  and  nothing  that  is  not 
individual.  And  my  apprehension  of  its  notices  is 
conveyed  in  a  collection  of  singular  and  real  proposi- 
tions. 

I  have  been  adducing  instances  from  (for  the  most 
part)  objects  of  sight ;  but  the  memory  preserves  the 
impress,  though  not  so  vivid,  of  the  experiences  v/hich 
come  to  us  through  our  other  senses  also.  The  mem- 
ory of  a  beautiful  air,  or  the  scent  of  a  particular 
flower,  as  far  as  any  remembrance  remains  of  it,  is  the 
continued  presence  in  our  minds  of  a  likeness  of  it, 
which  its  actual  presence  has  left  there,  I  can  bring 
before  me  the  music  of  the  Adcste  Fidclcs,  as  if  I  were 
actually  hearing  it ;  and  the  scent  of  a  clematis  as  if  I 
were  in  my  garden ;  and  the  flavor  of  a  peach  as  if  it 
were  in  season ;  and  the  thought  I  have  of  all  these  is 
as  of  something  individual  and  from  without, — as  much 
as  the  things  themselves,  the  tune,  the  scent,  and  the 
flavor,  are  from  without, — though,  compared  with 
the  things  themselves,  these  images  (as  they  may  be 
called)  are  faint  and  intermitting. 

Nor  need  such  an  image  be  in  any  sense  an  abstrac- 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  23 

tion :  though  I  may  have  eaten  a  hundred  peaches  in 
times  past,  the  impression,  which  remains  on  my  me- 
mory of  the  flavor,  may  be  of  any  of  them,  of  the  ten, 
twenty,  thirty  units,  as  the  case  may  be,  not  a  gene- 
ral notion,  distinct  from  every  one  of  them,  and  form- 
ed from  all  of  them  by  a  fabrication  of  my  mind. 

And  so  again  the  apprehension  which  we  have  of 
our  past  mental  acts  of  any  kind,  of  hope,  inquiry, 
effort,  triumph,  disappointment,  suspicion,  hatred,  and 
a  hundred  others,  is  an  apprehension  of  the  memory 
of  those  definite  acts,  and  therefore  an  apprehension 
of  things ;  not  to  say  that  many  of  them  do  not  need 
memory,  but  are  such  as  admit  of  being  actually  sum- 
moned and  repeated  at  our  will.  Such  an  apprehen- 
sion again  is  eh  cited  by  propositions  embodying  the 
notices  of  our  history,  of  our  pursuits  and  their  re- 
sults, of  our  friends,  of  our  bereavements,  of  our  ill- 
nesses, of  our  fortunes,  which  remain  imprinted  upon 
our  memory  as  sharpty  and  deeply  as  any  recollection 
of  sight.  Nay,  and  such  recollections  may  have  in 
them  an  individuality  and  completeness  which  out- 
lives the  impressions  made  by  sensible  objects.  The 
memory  of  countenances  and  of  places  in  times  past 
may  fade  away  from  the  mind ;  but  the  vivid  image 
of  certain  anxieties  or  deliverances  never. 

And  by  means  of  these  particular  and  personal  ex- 
periences, thus  impressed  upon  us,  we  attain  an  ap- 
prehension of  what  such  things  are  at  other  times 
when  v/e  have  not  experience  of  them ;  an  apprehen- 
sion of  sights  and  sounds,  of  colors  and  forms,  of  places 
and  persons,  of  mental  acts  and  states,  parallel  to  our 
actual  experiences,  such,  that,  when  we  meet  with  de- 
finite propositions  expressive  of  them,  our  apprehen- 


24  The  appixhensiou  of  Propositions. 

sion  cannot  be  called  abstract  and  notional.  If  I  am 
told  "there  is  a  raging  fire  in  London,"  or  ''London 
is  on  fire,"  "fire"  need  not  be  a  common  noun  in  my 
apprehension  more  than  "London."  The  word  may 
recall  to  my  memory  the  experience  of  a  fire  which  I 
have  known  elsewhere,  or  of  some  vivid  description 
which  I  have  read.  It  is  of  course  difficult  to  draw 
the  line  and  to  say  where  the  office  of  memory  ends, 
and  where  abstraction  takes  its  place ;  and  again,  as  I 
said  in  my  first  pages,  the  same  proposition  is  to  one 
man  an  image,  to  another  a  notion ;  but  still  there  is  a 
host  of  predicates,  of  the  most  various  kinds,  "  lovely," 
"  vulgar,"  "  a  conceited  man,"  "  a  manufacturing 
town,"  "a  catastrophe,"  and  any  number  of  others, 
which,  though  as  predicates  they  would  be  accounted 
common  nouns,  are  in  fact  in  the  mouths  of  particular 
persons  singular,  as  conveying  images  of  things  indi- 
vidual, as  the  rustic  in  Virgil  says, — 

"  Urbem,  quam  dicunt  Romam,  jMeliboee,  putavi, 
Stultus  ego,  huic  nostras  similem." 

And  so  the  child's  idea  of  a  king,  as  derived  from 
his  picture-book,  will  be  that  of  a  fierce  or  stern  or 
venerable  man,  seated  above  a  flight  of  steps,  with  a 
crovfn  on  and  a  sceptre  in  his  hand.  In  these  two  in- 
stances indeed  the  experience  does  but  mislead,  when 
applied  to  the  unknown ;  but  it  often  happens  on  the 
contrary,  that  it  is  a  serviceable  help,  especially  when 
a  man  has  large  experiences  and  has  learned  to  dis- 
tinguish between  them  and  apply  them  duly,  as  in  the 
instance  of  the  hero  "  who  knew  many  cities  of  men 
and  man}^  minds." 

Further^  we  are  able,  by  an  inventive  faculty,  or,  as 
I  may  call  it,  the  faculty  of  composition,  to  follow  the 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  25 

descriptions  of  things  which  have  never  come  before 
us,  and  to  form,  out  of  such  passive  impressions  as 
experience  leaves  on  our  minds,  new  images,  which, 
though  mental  creations,  are  in  no  sense  abstractions, 
and  though  ideal,  are  not  notional.  They  are  concrete 
units  in  the  minds  of  both  the  party  describing  and 
the  party  informed  of  them.  Thus  I  may  never  have 
seen  a  palm  or  a  banana,  but  I  have  conversed  with 
those  who  have,  or  I  have  read  graphic  accounts  of  it, 
and,  from  my  own  previous  knowledge  of  other  trees, 
have  been  able  with  so  ready  an  intelligence  to  inter- 
pret their  language,  and  to  light  up  such  an  image  of 
it  in  my  thoughts,  that,  were  it  not  that  I  never  was 
in  the  countries  where  the  tree  is  found,  I  should 
fancy  that  I  had  actually  seen  it.  Hence  again  it  is 
the  very  praise  we  give  to  the  characters  of  some 
great  poet  or  historian  that  they  are  so  individual.  I 
am  able  as  it  were  to  gaze  on  Tiberius,  as  Tacitus 
draws  him,  and  to  figure  to  myself  our  James  the 
First,  as  he  is  painted  in  Scott's  Romance.  The  as- 
sassination of  Csesar,  his  ''  Et  tu.  Brute  ?"  his  collect- 
ing his  robes  about  him,  and  his  fall  under  Pompey's 
statue,  all  this  becomes  a  fact  to  me  and  an  object  of 
real  apprehension.  Thus  it  is  that  we  live  in  the  past 
and  in  the  distant ;  by  means  of  our  capacity  of  inter- 
preting the  statements  of  others  about  former  ages  or 
foreign  cHmes  by  the  lights  of  our  own  experience. 
The  picture,  which  historians  are  able  to  bring  before 
us,  of  Cassar's  death,  derives  its  vividness  and  effect 
from  its  virtual  appeal  to  the  various  images  of  our 
memory. 

This  faculty  of  composition  is  of  course  a  step  be- 
yond experience,  but  we  have  now  reached  its  furthest 


26  The  apprehension  of  Propositions, 

point ;  it  is  mainly  limited  as  regards  its  materials,  by 
the  sense  of  sight.  As  regards  the  other  senses,  new 
images  cannot  well  be  elicited  and  shaped  out  of  old 
experiences.  No  description,  however  complete, 
could  convey  to  my  mind  an  exact  likeness  of  a  tune 
or  an  harmony,  which  I  have  never  heard ;  and  still 
less  of  a  scent,  which  I  have  never  smelt.  Generic 
resemblances  and  metaphorical  substitutes  are  indeed 
producible ;  but  I  should  not  acquire  any  real  know- 
ledge of  the  Scotch  air  "  There's  nae  luck  "  by  being 
told  it  was  like  ''  Auld  lang  syne,"  or  ''  Robin  Gray  ;" 
and  if  I  said  that  Mozart's  melodies  were  as  a  summer 
sky  or  as  the  breath  of  Zephyr,  I  should  be  better 
understood  by  those  who  knew  Mozart  than  by  those 
who  did  not.  Such  vague  illustrations  suggest  intel- 
lectual notions^  not  images. 

And  quite  as  difficult  is  it  to  create  or  to  apprehend 
by  description  images  of  mental  facts,  of  which  we 
have  no  direct  experience.  I  may  indeed,  as  I  have 
already  said,  bring  home  to  my  mind  so  complex  a 
fact  as  an  historical  character,  by  composition  out  of 
my  experiences  about  character  generally  ;  Tiberius, 
James  the  First,  Louis  the  Eleventh,  or  Napoleon  ; 
but  who  is  able  to  infuse  into  me,  or  how  shall  I  im- 
bibe, a  sense  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  style  of  Cicero 
or  Virgil,  if  I  have  not  read  their  writings  ?  or  how 
shall  I  gain  a  shadow  of  a  perception  of  the  wit  or  the 
grace  ascribed  to  the  conversation  of  the  French 
salons,  being  myself  an  untravelled  John  Bull?  And 
so  again,  as  regards  the  affections  and  passions  of  our 
nature,  they  are  sui  generis  respectively,  and  incom- 
mensurable, and  must  be  severally  experienced  in 
order  to  be  apprehended  really.    I  can  understand  the 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  2  7 

rabbia  of  a  native  of  Southern  Europe,  if  I  am  of  a 
passionate  temper  myself;  and  the  taste  for  specula- 
tion or  betting  found  in  great  traders  or  on  the  turf, 
if  I  am  fond  of  enterprise  or  games  of  chance  ;  but  on 
the  other  hand,  not  all  the  possible  descriptions  of 
headlong  love  will  make  me  comprehend  \k\Q  delirium^ 
if  I  have  never  had  a  fit  of  it ;  nor  will  ever  so  many 
sermons  about  the  inward  satisfaction  of  strict  con- 
scientiousness create  the  image  of  a  virtuous  action 
in  my  mind,  if  I  have  been  brought  up  to  lie,  thieve, 
and  indulge  my  appetites.  Thus  we  meet  with  men 
of  the  world  who  cannot  enter  into  the  very  idea  of 
devotion,  and  think,  for  instance,  that,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  a  life  of  religious  seclusion  must 
be  either  one  of  unutterable  dreariness  or  abandoned 
sensuality,  because  they  know  of  no  exercise  of  the  af- 
fections but  what  is  merely  human ;  and  with  others 
again,  who,  living  in  the  home  of  their  own  selfishness, 
ridicule  as  something  fanatical  and  pitiable  the  self- 
sacrifices  of  generous  high-mindedness  and  chivalrous 
honor.  They  cannot  create  images  of  these  things, 
any  more  than  children  can  on  the  contrary  of  vice, 
when  they  ask  where  and  who  the  bad  men  are;  for 
they  have  no  personal  memories,  and  have  to  content 
themselves  with  notions  drawn  from  books  or  the 
intercourse  of  life. 

So  much  on  the  apprehension  of  things  and  on  the 
real  sense  of  language ;  now  let  us  pass  on  to  the 
notional  sense. 

2.  Experience  tells  us  only  of  individual  things,  and 
these  things  are  innumerable.  Our  minds  might 
have  been  so  constructed  as  to  be  able  to  receive  and 
retain  an  exact  image  of  each  of  these  various  objects, 


28  The  apprehension  of  Propositions. 

one  by  one,  as  it  came  before  us,  but  only  in  and  for 
itself,  without  the  power  of  comparing  it  with  any  of 
the  others.  But  this  is  not  our  case  :  on  the  contrary, 
to  compare  and  to  contrast  are  among  the  most  pro- 
minent and  busy  of  our  intellectual  functions.  In- 
stinctively, even  though  unconsciously,  we  are  ever 
instituting  comparisons  between  the  manifold  pheno- 
mena of  the  external  world,  as  we  meet  with  them, 
criticising,  referring  to  a  standard,  collecting,  analyz- 
ing them.  Nay,  as  if  by  one  and  the  same  action,  as 
soon  as  we  perceive  them,  we  also  perceive  that  they 
are  like  each  other  or  unlike,  or  rather  both  like  and 
unlike  at  once.  We  apprehend  spontaneously,  even 
before  we  set  about  apprehending,  that  man  is  like 
man,  yet  unlike ;  and  unlike  a  horse,  a  tree,  a  moun- 
tain, or  a  monument,  yet  in  some,  though  not  the 
same  respects,  like  each  of  them.  And  in  conse- 
quence, as  I  have  said,  we  are  ever  grouping  and  dis- 
criminating, measuring  and  sounding,  framing  cross 
classes  and  cross  divisions,  and  thereby  rising  from 
particulars  to  generals,  that  is,  from  images  to 
notions. 

In  processes  of  this  kind  we  regard  things,  not  as 
they  are  in  themselves,  but  mainly  as  they  stand  in 
relation  "to  each  other.  We  look  at  nothing  simply 
for  its  own  sake ;  we  cannot  look  at  any  one  thing 
without  keeping  our  eyes  on  a  multitude  of  other 
things  besides.  "  Man  *'  is  no  longer  what  he  really 
is,  an  individual  presented  to  us  by  our  senses,  but  as 
we  read  him  in  the  light  of  those  comparisons  and 
contrasts  which  we  have  made  him  suggest  to  us.  He 
is  attenuated  into  an  aspect,  or  relegated  to  his  place 
in  a  classification.     Thus  his  appellation  is  made  to 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  29 

suggest,  not  the  real  being  which  he  is  in  this  or  that 
specimen  of  himself,  but  a  definition.  If  I  might  use 
a  harsh  metaphor,  I  should  say  he  is  made  the  loga- 
rithm of  his  true  self,  and  in  that  shape  is  worked 
with  the  ease  and  satisfaction  of  logarithms. 

It  is  plain  what  a  different  sense  language  will  bear 
in  this  system  of  intellectual  notions  from  what  it  has 
when  it  is  the  representative  of  things :  and  such  a  use 
of  it  is  not  only  the  very  foundation  of  all  science,  but 
may  be,  and  is,  carried  out  in  literature  and  in  the 
ordinary  intercourse  of  man  with  man.  And  then  it 
comes  to  pass  that  individual  propositions  about  the 
concrete  almost  cease  to  be,  and  are  diluted  or  starved 
into  abstract  notions.  The  events  of  history  and  the 
characters  who  figure  in  it  lose  their  individuality. 
States  and  governments,  society  and  its  component 
parts,  cities,  nations,  even  the  physical  face  of  the 
country,  things  past,  and  things  contemporary,  all 
that  fulness  of  meaning  which  I  have  described  as  ac- 
cruing to  language  from  experience,  now  that  experi- 
ence is  absent,  necessarily  becomes  to  the  multitude 
of  men  nothing  but  a  heap  of  notions,  little  more 
inteUigible  than  the  beauties  of  a  prospect  to  the 
short-sighted,  or  the  music  of  a  great  master  to  a 
listener  who  has  no  ear. 

I  suppose  most  men  Avill  recollect  in  their  past  years 
how  many  mistakes  they  have  made  about  persons, 
parties,  local  occurrences,  nations,  and  the  hke,  of 
which  at  the  time  they  had  no  actual  knowledge  of 
their  own :  how  ashamed  or  how  amused  they  have 
since  been  at  their  own  gratuitous  idealism  when  they 
came  into  possession  of  the  real  facts  concerning 
them.     They  were  accustomed  to  treat  the  definite 


30  The  appi^ehension  of  Propositions. 

Titus  or  Semproniiis  as  the  qitidani  ho7iw,  the  indivu 
diiiuii  vagiim  of  the  logician.  They  spoke  of  his 
opinions,  his  motives,  his  practices,  as  their  traditional 
rule  for  the  gemts  Titus  or  Sempronius  enjoined.  In 
order  to  find  out  what  individual  men  in  flesh  and 
blood  were,  they  fancied  that  they  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  refer  to  commonplaces  alphabetically  arranged. 
Thus  they  were  well  up  with  the  character  of  a  Whig 
statesman  or  Tory  magnate,  a  Wesle3^an,  a  Congrega- 
tionalist,  a  parson,  a  priest,  a  philanthropist,  a  writer 
of  controversy,  a  sceptic  ;  and  found  themselves  pre- 
pared, without  the  trouble  of  direct  inquir}'-,  to  draw 
the  individual  after  the  peculiarities  of  his  type.  And 
so  with  national  character.  The  late  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington must  have  been  impulsive,  quarrelsome,  Avitty, 
clever  at  repartee,  for  he  was  an  Irishman  ;  in  like 
manner,  we  must  have  cold  and  selfish  Scots,  crafty 
Italians,  vulgar  Americans,  and  Frenchmen,  half  tiger, 
half  monkey.  As  to  the  French,  those  who  are  old 
enough  to  recollect  the  wars  with  Napoleon,  know 
what  eccentric  notions  were  popularly  entertained 
about  them  in  England ;  how  it  was  even  a  surprise 
to  find  some  militar}'  ma.n,  who  was  a  prisoner  of  war, 
to  be  tall  and  stout,  because  it  was  a  received  idea 
that  all  Frenchmen  were  under-sized  and  lived  on 
frogs. 

Such,  again,  are  the  ideal  personages  who  figure  in 
romances  and  dramas  of  the  old  school ;  tyrants, 
monks,  crusaders,  princes  in  disguise,  and  captive 
damsels  ;  or  benevolent  or  angry  fathers,  and  spend- 
thrift heirs  ;  like  the  symbolical  characters  in  some  of 
Shakespeare's  plays, ''  a  Tapster,"  or  "■  a  Lord  Mayor," 
or  in  the  stage  directions,  ''  Enter  two  murderers." 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  3 1 

"Flebilis  Ino, 
Perfidus  Ixion,  lo  vaga,  tristis  Orestes." 

What  I  have  been  illustrating  in  the  case  of  persons, 
might  be  instanced  in  regard  to  places,  transactions, 
physical  calamities,  events  in  history.  Words  which 
are  used  by  an  eye-witness  to  express  things,  unless 
he  be  especially  eloquent,  will  only  convey  general 
notions.  Such  is,  and  ever  must  be,  the  popular  and 
ordinary  mode  of  apprehending  language.  On  few 
subjects  only  have  any  of  us  the  opportunity  of  real- 
izing in  our  minds  what  we  speak  and  hear  about ; 
and  we  fancy  that  we  are  doing  justice  to  individual 
men  and  things  by  making  them  a  mere  synthesis  of 
qualities,  as  if  any  number  whatever  of  abstractions 
would,  by  being  fused  together,  be  equivalent  to  one 
concrete. 

Here  then  we  have  two  modes  of  mental  action, 
both  using  the  same  words,  both  having  one  origin, 
yet  with  nothing  in  common  in  their  results.  The 
informations  of  sense  and  sensation  are  the  initial  basis 
of  both  of  them ;  but  in  the  one  we  take  hold  of 
objects  from  within,  and  in  the  other  we  view  them 
from  without ;  we  perpetuate  them  as  images  in  the 
one  case,  we  transform  them  into  notions  in  the  other. 
And  natural  to  us  as  are  both  processes  in  their  first 
elements  and  their  growth,  however  divergent  and 
independent  in  their  direction,  they  cannot  really  be 
inconsistent  with  each  other;  yet  no  one  from  the 
sight  of  a  horse  or  a  dog  would  be  able  to  anticipate 
its  zoological  definition,  nor  from  a  knowledge  of  its 
definition  to  draw  such  a  picture  as  would  direct 
another  to  the  living  specimen. 


3  2  The  apprehension  of  P7^opositions. 

Each  use  of  propositions  has  its  own  excellence  and 
serviceableness,  and  each  has  its  own  imperfection. 
To  apprehend  notionally  is  to  have  breadth  of  mind, 
but  to  be  shallow ;  to  apprehend  really  is  to  be  deep, 
but  to  be  narrow-minded.  The  latter  is  the  conser- 
vative principle  of  knowledge,  and  the  former  the 
principle  of  its  advancement.  Without  the  appre- 
hension of  notions  we  should  for  ever  pace  round  one 
small  circle  of  knowledge ;  without  a  firm  hold  upon 
things,  we  shall  waste  ourselves  in  vague  speculations. 
However,  real  apprehension  has  the  precedence,  as 
being  the  scope  and  end  and  the  test  of  notional ;  and 
the  fuller  is  the  mind's  hold  upon  things  or  what  it 
considers  such,  the  more  fertile  is  it  in  its  aspects  of 
them,  and  the  more  practical  in  its  definitions. 

Of  course,  as  these  two  are  not  inconsistent  with  each 
other,  they  may  co-exist  in  the  same  mind.  Indeed 
there  is  no  one  who  does  not  to  a  certain  extent  exer- 
cise both  the  one  and  the  other.  Viewed  in  relation 
to  Assent,  which  has  led  to  my  speaking  of  them,  they 
do  not  in  any  way  affect  the  nature  of  the  mental  act, 
which  is  in  all  cases  absolute  and  unconditional ;  but 
they  give  it  an  external  character  corresponding 
respectively  to  their  own :  so  much  so,  that  at  first 
sight  it  might  seem  as  if  Assent  admitted  of  degrees, 
on  account  of  the  variation  of  vividness  in  these 
different  apprehensions.  As  notions  come  of  abstrac- 
tions, so  images  come  of  experiences ;  the  more  fully 
the  mind  is  occupied  by  an  experience,  the  keener 
will  be  its  assent  to  it,  if  it  assents,  and  on  the  other 
hand,  the  duller  will  be  its  assent  and  the  less  opera- 
tive, the  more  it  is  engaged  with  an  abstraction ;  and 
thus  a  scale  of  assents  is  conceivable,  either  in  the 


The  apprehension  of  Propositions.  ^yZ 

instance  of  one  mind  upon  different  subjects,  or  of 
many  minds  upon  one  subject,  varying  from  an  assent 
which  looks  like  mere  inference  up  to  a  belief  both 
intense  and  practical,— from  the  acceptance  which  we 
accord  to  some  accidental  news  of  the  day  to  the 
supernatural  dogmatic  faith  of  the  Christian. 

It  follows  to  treat  of  Assent  under  this  double 
aspect  of  its  subject-matter,— assent  to  notions,  and 
assent  to  things. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NOTIONAL  AND   REAL  ASSENT. 

I.  I  HAVE  said  that  our  apprehension  of  a  proposition 
varies  in  strength,  and  that  it  is  stronger  when  it  is 
concerned  with  a  proposition  expressive  of  things  than 
when  concerned  with  the  proposition  expressive  of 
notions  ;  and  I  have  given  this  reason  for  it,  viz.  that 
what  is  concrete  exerts  a  force  and  makes  an  impres- 
sion on  the  mind  which  nothing  abstract  can  rival. 
That  is,  I  have  argued  that,  because  the  object  is  more 
powerful,  therefore  so  is  the  apprehension  of  it. 

I  do  not  think  it  unfair  reasoning  thus  to  take  the 
apprehension  for  its  object.  The  mind  is  ever  stim- 
ulated in  proportion  to  the  cause  stimulating  it. 
Sights,  for  instance,  sway  us,  as  scents  do  not ; 
whether  this  be  owing  to  a  greater  power  in  the  thing- 
seen,  or  to  a  greater  receptivity  and  expansiveness  in 
the  sense  of  seeing,  is  a  superfluous  question.  The 
strong  object  would  make  the  apprehension  strong. 
Our  sense  of  seeing  is  able  to  open  to  its  object,  as 
our  sense  of  smell  cannot  open  to  its  own.  Its  objects 
are  able  to  awaken  the  mind,  take  possession  of  it, 


Notional  and  Real  A ssent.  3  5 

inspire  it,  act  through  it,  with  an  energy  and  vari- 
ousness  which  is  not  found  in  the  case  of  scents 
and  their  apprehension.  Since  we  cannot  draw  the 
hne  between  the  object  and  the  act,  I  am  at  hberty  to 
say,  as  I  have  said,  that,  as  is  the  thing  apprehended, 
so  is  the  apprehension. 

And  so  in  like  manner  as  regards  apprehension  of 
mental  objects.  If  an  image  derived  from  experience 
or  information  is  stronger  than  an  abstraction,  con- 
ception, or  conclusion — if  I  am  more  arrested  by  our 
Lord's  bearing  before  Pilate  and  Herod  than  by  the 
''  Justum  et  tenacem,"  etc.,  of  the  poet,  more  arrested 
by  His  Voice  saying  to  us  (if  we  need  understand 
Him  Hterally),  ''  Give  to  him  that  asketh  thee,"  than 
by  the  best  argumicnts  of  the  Economist  against  in- 
discriminate almsgiving,  it  does  not  matter  for  my 
present  purpose  whether  the  objects  give  strength  to 
the  apprehension  or  the  apprehension  gives  large  ad- 
mittance into  the  mind  to  the  object.  It  is  in  human 
nature  to  be  more  affected  by  the  concrete  than  by 
the  abstract ;  it  may  be  the  reverse  with  other  beings. 
The  apprehension,  then,  may  be  as  fairly  said  to  pos- 
sess the  force  which  acts  upon  us,  as  the  object  appre- 
hended. 

2.  Real  apprehension,  then,  may  be  pronounced 
stronger  than  notional,  because  things,  which  are  its 
objects,  are  confessedly  more  impressive  and  effective 
than  notions,  wdiich  are  the  objects  of  notional.  Ex- 
periences and  their  images  strike  and  occupy  the 
mind,  as  abstractions  and  their  combinations  do  not. 
Next,  passing  on  to  Assent,  I  observe  that  it  is  this 
variation  in  the  mind's  apprehension  of  an  object  to 
which  it  assents,  and  not  any  incompleteness  in  the 


3  6  Notional  and  Real  Assent 

assent  itself,  which  leads  us  to  speak  of  strong  and 
weak  assents,  as  if  Assent  itself  admitted  of  degrees. 
In  either  mode  of  apprehension,  be  it  real  or  be  it 
notional,  the  assent  preserves  its  essential  character- 
istic of  being  unconditional.  The  assent  of  a  Stoic  to 
the  "  Justum  et  tenacem,"  etc.,  may  be  as  genuine  an 
assent,  as  absolute  and  entire,  as  little  admitting  of 
degree  or  variation,  as  distinct  from  an  act  of  infer- 
ence, as  the  assent  of  a  Christian  to  the  history  of  our 
Lord's  Passion  in  the  Gospel. 

3.  However,  characteristic  as  it  is  of  Assent,  to  be 
thus  in  its  nature  simply  one  and  indivisible,  and 
thereby  essentially  different  from  Inference,  which  is 
ever  varying  in  strength,  never  quite  at  the  same 
pitch  in  any  two  of  its  acts,  still  it  is  at  the  same  time 
true  that  it  may  be  difficult  in  fact,  by  external  tokens, 
to  distinguish  certain  acts  of  assent  from  certain  acts 
of  inference.  Thus,  whereas  no  one  could  possibly 
confuse  the  real  assent  of  a  Christian  to  the  fact  of 
our  Lord's  crucifixion,  with  the  notional  acceptance 
of  it,  as  a  point  of  history,  on  the  part  of  a  philosoph- 
ical heathen  (so  removed  from  each  other,  ioto  ccelo, 
are  the  respective  modes  of  apprehending  it  in  the 
two  cases,  though  in  both  the  assent  is  in  its  nature 
one  and  the  same),  nevertheless  it  would  be  easy  to 
mistake  the  Stoic's  notional  assent,  genuine  though  it 
might  be,  to  the  moral  nobleness  of  the  just  man 
''  struggling  in  the  storms  of  fate,"  for  a  mere  act  of 
inference  resulting  from  the  principles  of  his  Stoical 
profession,  or  for  an  assent  merely  to  the  inferential 
necessity  of  the  nobleness  of  that  struggle.  Nothing, 
indeed,  is  more  common  than  to  praise  men  for  their 
consistency  to  their  principles,  whatever  those  prin- 


Notional  and  Real  A  ssent.  3  7 

ciples  are,  that  is,  to  praise  them  on  an  inference, 
without  thereby  implying  any  assent  to  the  principles 
themselves. 

The  cause  of  this  resemblance  between  acts  so  dis- 
tinct is  obvious.     It  exists  only  in  cases  of  notional  as- 
sents ;  when  the  assent  is  given  to  notions,  then  it  is 
possible  to  hesitate  in  deciding  whether  it  is  assent  or 
inference,  whether  the  mind  is  merely  without  doubt 
or  whether  it  is  actually  certain.     And  the  reason  is 
this:    notional  Assent  seems  like  Inference,  because 
the  apprehension  which  accompanies  acts  of  inference 
is  notional  also, — because  Inference  is  engaged  for  the 
most  part  on  notional  propositions,  both  premiss  and 
conclusion.   This  point,  which  I  have  implied  through- 
out, I  here  distinctly  record,  and  shall  enlarge  upon 
hereafter.     Only  propositions  about  individuals  are 
not  notional,  and  they  are  seldom  the  matter  of  infer- 
ence.    Thus,  did  the  Stoic  infer  the  fact  of  our  Lord's 
death  instead  of  assenting  to  it,  the  proposition  would 
have  been  as  much  an  abstraction  to  him  as  the  '' Jus- 
tum  et  tenacem,"  etc. ;  nay  further,  the  ''Justus  et  te- 
nax"  was  at  least  a  notion  in  his  mind,  but  "Jesus 
Christ "  would  have  stood  for  less,  for  an  unknown  be- 
ing, the  X  or  y  of  a  formula,  in  the  schools  of  Athens 
or  of  Rome.     Except  then  in  some  of  the  cases  of  in- 
dividual conclusions,  inferences  are  employed  on  no- 
tions, that  is,  unless  they  are  employed  on  mere  sym- 
bols ;  and,  indeed,  when  they  are  symbolical,  then  are 
they  clearest  and  most  cogent,  as  I  shall  hereafter  show. 
The  next  clearest  are  such  as  carry  out  the  necessary 
results  of  previous  classifications,  and  therefore  may 
be  called  definitions  or  conclusions,  as  we  please.     For 


3  8  Notional  and  Real  A ssent, 

instance,  having  divided  beings  into  their  classes,  the 
definition  of  man  is  inevitable. 

4.  We  may  call  it  then  the  normal  state  of  Inference 
to  apprehend  propositions  as  notions: — and  we  may 
call  it  the  normal  state  of  Assent  to  apprehend  pro- 
positions as  things.  If  notional  apprehension  is  most 
congenial  to  Inference,  real  apprehension  will  be  the 
most  natural  concomitant  on  Assent.  An  act  of  Infer- 
ence includes  in  its  object  the  dependence  of  its  thesis 
upon  its  premisses,  that  is,  upon  a  relation  which  is 
abstract ;  but  an  act  of  Assent  rests  wholly  on  the  the- 
sis as  its  object,  and  the  reality  of  the  thesis  is  almost 
a  condition  of  its  unconditionality. 

5.  I  am  led  on  to  make  one  remark  more,  and  it 
shall  be  my  last. 

An  act  of  Assent,  it  seems,  is  the  most  perfect  and 
highest  of  its  kind,  when  it  is  exercised  on  proposi- 
tions, which  are  apprehended  as  experiences  and  im- 
ages, that  is,  which  stand  for  things ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  an  act  of  inference  is  the  most  perfect  and  high- 
est of  its  kind,  when  it  is  exercised  on  propositions 
which  are  apprehended  as  notions,  which  are  creations 
of  the  mind.  An  act  of  inference  indeed  may  be  made 
with  either  of  these  modes  of  apprehension ;  so  may 
an  act  of  assent ;  but,  when  inferences  are  exercised 
on  things,  they  tend  to  be  conjectures  or  presenti- 
ments, without  logical  force;  and  when  assents  are 
exercised  on  notions,  they  tend  to  be  mere  assertions 
without  any  personal  hold  on  them  on  the  part  of  those 
who  make  them.  If  this  be  so,  the  paradox  is  true, 
that,  when  Inference  is  clearest.  Assent  may  be  least 
forcible,  and,  when  Assent  is  most  intense.  Inference 


Notional  and  Real  A ssent.  3  9 

may  be  least  distinct ; — for,  though  acts  of  assent  re- 
quire previous  acts  of  inference,  they  require  them, 
not  as  adequate  causes,  but  as  sine  qua  non  conditions : 
and,  while  apprehension  strengthens  Assent,  Inference 
often  weakens  apprehension. 


40  Notional  Assents, 


§  I.  Notional  Assents. 

I  SHALL  consider  Assent  made  to  propositions  which 
express  abstractions  or  notions  under  five  heads ; 
which  I  shall  call  Profession,  Credence,  Opinion, 
Presumption,  and  Speculation. 

I.  Professz'on. 

There  are  assents  so  feeble  and  superficial,  as  to  be 
little  more  than  assertions.  I  class  them  all  together 
under  the  head  of  Profession.  Such  are  the  assents 
made  upon  habit  and  without  reflection ;  as  when  a 
man  calls  himself  a  Tory  or  a  Liberal,  as  having  been 
brought  up  as  such ;  or  again,  when  he  adopts  as  a 
matter  of  course  the  Hterary  or  other  fashions  of  the 
day,  admiring  the  poems,  or  the  novels,  or  the  music, 
or  the  personages,  or  the  costume,  or  the  wines,  or 
the  manners,  which  happen  to  be  popular,  or  are 
patronized  in  the  higher  circles.  Such  again  are  the 
assents  of  men  of  wavering  restless  minds,  who  take 
up  and  then  abandon  beliefs  so  readily,  so  suddenly, 
as  to  m.ake  it  appear  that  they  had  no  view  (as  it  is 
called)  on  the  matter  they  professed,  and  did  not 
know  to  what  they  assented  or  why. 

Then,  again,  when  men  say  they  have  no  doubt  of 
a  thing,  this  is  a  case,  in  which  it  is  difficult  to  deter- 
mine whether  they  assent  to  it,  infer  it,  or  consider  it 
highly  probable.     There  are  many  cases,  indeed,  in 


Profession.  41 

which  it  is  impossible  to  discriminate  between  assent, 
inference,  and  assertion,  on  account  of  the  otiose, 
passive,  inchoate  character  of  the  act  in  question. 
If  I  say  that  to-morrow  will  be  fine,  what  does  this 
enunciation  mean  ?  Perhaps  it  means  that  it  ought 
to  be  fine,  if  the  glass  tells  truly ;  then  it  is  the  infer- 
ence of  a  probability.  Perhaps  it  means  no  more 
than  a  surmise,  because  it  is  fine  to-day,  or  has  been 
so  for  a  week  past.  And  perhaps  it  is  a  compliance 
with  the  word  of  another,  in  which  case  it  is  some- 
times a  real  assent,  sometimes  a  polite  assertion  or  a 
wish. 

Many  a  disciple  of  a  philosophical  school,  who  talks 
fluently,  does  but  assert,  when  he  seems  to  assent  to 
the  dicta  of  his  master,  little  as  he  may  be  aware  of  it. 
Nor  is  he  secured  against  this  self-deception  by 
knowing  the  arguments  on  which  those  dicta  rest,  for 
he  may  learn  the  arguments  by  heart,  as  a  careless 
schoolboy  gets  up  his  Euclid.  This  practice  of 
asserting  simply  on  authority,  with  the  pretence  and 
without  the  reality  of  assent,  is  what  is  meant  by 
formalism.  To  say  '^  I  do  not  understand  a  proposi- 
tion, but  I  accept  it  on  authority,"  is  not  formalism ; 
it  is  not  a  direct  assent  to  the  proposition,  still  it  is 
an  assent  to  the  authority  which  enunciates  it ;  but 
what  I  here  speak  of  is  professing  to  understand 
without  understanding.  It  is  thus  that  political  and 
religious  watchwords  are  created ;  first  one  man  of 
name  and  then  another  adopts  them,  till  their  use 
becomes  popular,  and  then  every  one  professes  them, 
because  every  one  else  does.  Such  words  are,  "  liber- 
ality," "progress,"  '' hght,"  "civilization;"  such  are 
"justification  by  faith  only,"  "vital  religion,"  "pri- 


42  Notional  Assents. 

vate  judgment,"  '^the  Bible  and  nothing  but  the 
Bible."  Such  again  are  "  Rationahsm,"  "  Gallican- 
ism,"  '' Jesuitism,"  '^  Ultramontanism  "— all  of  which, 
in  the  mouths  of  conscientious  thinkers,  have  a  defin- 
ite meaning,  but  are  used  by  the  multitude  as  war- 
cries,  nicknames,  and  shibboleths,  w^ith  scarcely 
enough  of  the  scantiest  grammatical  apprehension  of 
them  to  allow  of  their  being  considered  really  more 
than  assertions. 

Thus,  instances  occur  now  and  then,  when,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  urgency  of  some  fashionable  super- 
stition or  popular  delusion,  some  eminent  scientific 
authority  is  provoked  to  come  forward,  and  to  set  the 
world  right  by  his  "  ipse  dixit."  He,  indeed,  himself 
knows  very  well  what  he  is  about ;  he  has  a  right  to 
speak,  and  his  reasonings  and  conclusions  are  suffi- 
cient, not  only  for  his  own,  but  for  general  assent, 
and,  it  may  be,  are  as  simply  true  and  impregnable, 
as  they  are  authoritative ;  but  an  intelligent  hold  on 
the  matter  in  dispute,  such  as  he  has  himself,  cannot 
he  expected  in  the  case  of  men  in  general.  They, 
nevertheless,  one  and  all,  repeat  and  retail  his  argu- 
ments, as  suddenly  as  if  they  had  not  to  study  them, 
as  heartily  as  if  they  understood  them,  changing 
round  and  becoming  as  strong  antagonists  of  the 
error  which  their  master  has  exposed,  as  if  they  had 
never  been  its  advocates.  If  their  word  is  to  be 
taken,  it  is  not  simply  his  authority  that  moves  them, 
which  would  be  sensible  enough  and  suitable  in  them, 
both  apprehension  and  assent  being  in  that  case 
grounded  on  the  maxim  ^'  Cuique  in  arte  sua  creden- 
dum  ;"  but  so  far  forth  as  they  disown  this  motive, 
and   claim  to  judge  in  a  scientific   question   of  the 


Profession.  43 

worth  of  arguments  which  require  some  real  know- 
ledge, they  are  little  better,  not  of  course  in  a  very 
serious  matter,  than  pretenders  and  formalists. 

Not  only  Authority,  but  Inference  also  may  impose 
on  us  assents  which  in  themselves  are  little  better 
than  assertions,  and  which,  so  far  as  they  are  assents 
can  only  be  notional  assents,  as  being  assents,  not  to 
the  propositions  inferred,  but  to  the  truth  of  those 
propositions.  For  instance,  it  can  be  proved  by  irre- 
fragable calculations,  that  the  stars  are  not  less  than 
billions  of  miles  distant  from  the  earth  ;  and  the  pro- 
cess of  calculation,  upon  which  such  statements  are 
made,  is  not  so  difficult  as  to  require  authority  to 
secure  our  acceptance  of  both  it  and  of  them  ;  yet 
who  can  say  that  he  has  any  real,  nay,  any  notional 
apprehension  of  a  biUion  or  a  triUion?  We  can, 
indeed,  have  some  notion  of  it,  if  we  analyze  it  into  its 
factors,  if  we  compare  it  with  other  numbers,  or  if  we 
illustrate  it  by  analogies  or  by  its  impHcations ;  but  I. 
am  speaking  of  the  vast  number  in  itself.  We  have 
no  mental  hold  upon  the  incomprehensible,  except  so 
far  as  Ave  know  what  is  meant  to  be  conveyed  by  the 
word.  We  cannot  assent  to  a  proposition  which  is 
not  only  beyond  conception,  but  directly  beyond 
comprehension ;  we  can  but  assent  to  the  truth 
of  it. 

This  leads  me  to  the  question,  whether  belief  in  a 
mystery  can  be  more  than  an  assertion.  I  consider 
it  can  be  an  assent,  and  my  reasons  for  saying  so  are 
as  follows: — A  mystery  is  a  proposition  conveying 
incompatible  notions,  or  is  a  statement  of  the  incon- 
ceivable. Now  we  can  assent  to  propositions  (and  a 
mystery  is  a  proposition),  provided  we  can  apprehend 


44  Notional  Assents. 

them ;  therefore  we  can  assent  to  a  mystery,  for, 
unless  we  apprehended  it,  we  should  not  recognize  it 
to  be  a  mystery,  that  is,  a  statement  uniting  incom- 
patible notions.  The  same  act,  then,  which  enables 
us  to  discern  that  the  words  of  the  proposition  express 
a  mystery,  capacitates  us  for  assenting  to  it.  Words 
which  make  nonsense,  do  not  make  a  mystery.  No 
one  would  call  Warton's  line — "  Revolving  swans  pro- 
claim the  Avelkin  near" — an  inconceivable  assertion. 
It  is  equally  plain,  that  the  assent  which  we  give  to 
mysteries,  as  such,  is  notional  assent ;  for,  by  the  sup- 
position, it  is  assent  to  propositions  which  we  cannot 
conceive,  whereas,  if  we  had  had  experience  of  them, 
we  should  be  able  to  conceive  them,  and  without  ex- 
perience assent  is  not  real. 

But  the  question  follows.  Can  processes  of  inference 
end  in  a  mystery?  that  is,  not  only  in  what  is  incom- 
prehensible, that  the  stars  are  billions  of  miles  from 
each  other,  but  in  Avhat  is  inconceivable,  in  the  co-ex- 
istence of  (seeming)  incompatibilities  ?  For  how,  it 
may  be  asked,  can  reason  carry  out  notions  into  their 
contradictories  ?  since  all  the  developments  of  a  truth 
must  from  the  nature  of  the  case  be  consistent  both 
Avith  it  and  with  each  other.  I  answer,  certainly 
processes  of  inference,  however  accurate,  can  end  in 
mystery  ;  and  I  solve  the  objection  to  such  a  doctrine 
thus : — our  notion  of  a  thing  may  be  only  partially 
faithful  to  the  original;  it  may  be  in  excess  of  the 
thing,  or  it  may  represent  it  incompletely,  and,  in 
consequence,  it  may  serve  for  it,  it  may  stand  for  it, 
only  to  a  certain  point,  in  certain  cases,  but  no  fur- 
ther.  After  that  point  is  reached,  the  notion  and  the 
thing  part  company ;    and  then  the  notion,  if  still 


Profession.  45 

used  as  the  representative  of  the  thing,  will  work  out 
conclusions,  not  inconsistent  with  itself,  but  with  the 
thing  to  which  it  no  longer  corresponds. 

This  is  seen  most  familiarly  in  the  use  of  metaphors. 
Thus,  in  an  Oxford  satire,  which  deservedly  made  a 
sensation  in  its  day,  it  is  said  that  Vice  ''  from  its 
hardness  takes  a  polish  too."  ■^'  Whence  we  might 
argue,  that  whereas  Caliban  was  vicious,  he  was 
therefore  polished  ;  but  politeness  and  Caliban  are 
incompatible  notions.  Or  again,  when  some  one 
said,  perhaps  to  Dr.  Johnson,  that  a  certain  writer 
(say  Hume)  was  a  clear  thinker,  he  made  answer, 
''  All  shallows  are  clear."  But  supposing  Hume  to 
be  in  fact  both  a  clear  and  a  deep  thinker,  yet  suppos- 
ing clearness  and  depth  are  incompatible  in  their 
literal  sense,  which  the  objection  seems  to  imply,  and 
still  in  their  full  literal  sense  were  to  be  ascribed  to 
Hume,  then  our  reasoning  about  his  intellect  has 
ended  in  the  mystery,  "  Deep  Hume  is  shallow  ;  " 
whereas  the  contradiction  lies,  not  in  the  reasoning, 
but  in  the  fancying  that  inadequate  notions  can  be 
taken  as  the  exact  representations  of  things. 

Hence,  in  science  we  sometimes  use  a  definition  or 
a  formiday  not  as  exact,  but  as  being  sufficient  for  our 
purpose,  for  working  out  certain  conclusions,  for  a 
practical  approximation,  the  error  being  small,  till  a 
certain  point  is  reached.  This  is  what  in  theological 
investigations  I  should  call  an  economy. 

A  like  contrast  between  notions  and  the  things 
which  they  represent  is  the  principle  of  suspense  and 
curiosity  in  those  enigmatical  sayings  which  were  fre- 

*  "The  Oxford  Spy,"  1818  ;  by  J.  S.  Boone,  p.  107. 


46  Notional  Assents, 

quent  in  the  early  stage  of  human  society.  In  them 
the  problem  proposed  to  the  acuteness  of  the  hearers, 
is  to  find  some  real  thing  which  may  unite  in  itself 
certain  conflicting  notions  which  in  the  question  are 
attributed  to  it :  ''  Out  of  the  eater  came  forth  meat, 
and  out  of  the  strong  came  forth  sweetness ;  "  or, 
''  What  creature  is  that  which  in  the  morning  goes  on 
four  legs,  at  noon  on  two,  and  on  three  in  the  even- 
ing ?  "  The  answer,  which  names  the  thing,  interprets 
and  thereby  limits  the  notions  under  which  it  has 
been  represented. 

Let  us  take  an  example  in  algebra.  Its  calculus 
is  commonly  used  to  investigate,  not  only  the  rela- 
tions of  quantity  generally,  but  geometrical  facts  in 
particular.  Now,  it  is  at  once  too  wide  and  too 
narrow  for  such  a  purpose,  fitting  on  to  the  doctrine 
of  lines  and  angles  with  a  bad  fit,  as  the  coat  of  a 
short  and  stout  man  might  serve  the  needs  of  one 
who  was  tall  and  slim.  Certainly  it  works  well  for 
geometrical  purposes  up  to  a  certain  point,  as  when 
it  enables  us  to  dispense  with  the  cumbrous  method 
of  proof  in  questions  of  ratio  and  proportion,  which  is 
adopted  in  the  fifth  book  of  Euclid  ;  but  what  are  we 
to  make  of  the  fourth  power  of  a,  when  it  is  to  be 
translated  into  geometrical  language  ?  If  from  this 
algebraical  expression  we  determined  that  space  ad- 
mitted of  four  dimensions,  we  should  be  enunciating 
a  mystery,  because  we  should  be  applying  to  space  a 
notion  which  belongs  to  quantity.  In  this  case  alge- 
bra is  in  excess  of  geometrical  truth.  Now,  let  us 
take  an  instance  in  which  it  falls  short  of  geometry, — 
What  is  the  meaning  of  the  square  root  of  minus  a  ? 
Here  the  mystery  is  on  the  side  of  algebra ;  and,  in 


Profession.  47 

accordance  with  the  principle  which  I  am  illustrating, 
it  has  sometimes  been  considered  as  an  abortive  effort 
to  express,  what  is  really  beyond  the  capacity  of  alge- 
braical notation,  the  direction  and  position  of  Hnes 
as  well  as  their  length.  When  the  calculus  is  urged 
on  by  the  inevitable  course  of  the  working  to  do  what 
it  cannot  do,  it  stops  short  as  if  in  resistance,  and 
protests  by  an  absurdity. 

Our  notions  of  things  are  never  simply  commensu- 
rate with  the  things  themselves ;  they  are  aspects  of 
them,  more  or  less  exact,  and  sometimes  a  mistake  ab 
initio.  Take  an  instance  from  arithmetic: — We  are 
accustomed  to  subject  all  that  exists  to  numeration  ; 
but,  to  be  correct,  we  are  bound  first  to  reduce  to 
some  level  of  possible  comparison  the  things  which 
Ave  wish  to  number.  We  must  be  able  to  say,  not 
only  that  they  are  ten,  twenty,  or  a  hundred,  but  so 
many  definite  somethings.  For  instance,  we  could 
not  without  extravagance  throw  together  Napoleon's 
brain,  ambition,  hand,  soul,  smile,  height,  and  age  at 
Marengo,  and  say  that  there  were  seven  of  them, 
though  there  are  seven  words ;  nor  will  it  even  be 
enough  to  content  ourselves  with  what  may  be  called 
a  negative  level,  viz.  that  these  seven  were  an  un- 
English  or  are  a  departed  seven.  Unless  numeration 
is  to  issue  m  nonsense,  it  must  be  conducted  on  con- 
ditions. This  being  the  case,  there  are,  for  what  Ave 
knoAv,  collections  of  beings,  to  Avhom  the  notion  of 
number  cannot  be  attached,  except  catachrestically, 
because,  taken  individually,  no  positive  point  of  real 
agreement  can  be  found  betAveen  them,  by  Avhich  to 
call  them.  If  indeed  Ave  can  denote  them  by  a  plural 
noun,  then  we  can  measure  that  plurality ;  but  if  they 


4^  Notional  Assents. 

agree  in  nothing,  they  cannot  agree  in  bearing  a  com- 
mon name,  and  to  say  that  they  amount  to  a  thousand 
these  or  those,  is  not  to  number  them,  but  to  count 
up  a  certain  number  of  names  or  words  which  we  have 
written  down. 

Thus,  the  Angels  have  been  considered  by  divines 
to  have  each  of  them  a  species  to  himself;  and  we 
may  fancy  each  of  them  so  absolutely  sni  siuiilis  as  to 
be  like  nothing  else,  so  that  it  would  be  as  untrue  to 
speak  of  a  thousand  Angels  as  of  a  thousand  Hannibals 
or  Ciceros.     It  will  be  said,  indeed,  that  all  beings  but 
One  at  least  will  come  under  the  notion  of  creatures, 
and  are  dependent  upon  that  One  ;  but  that  is  true  of 
the  brain,  smile,  and  height  of  Napoleon,  which  no  one 
would  call  three  creatures.    But,  if  all  this  be  so,  much 
more  does  it  apply  to  our  speculations  concerning  the 
Supreme  Being,  whom  it  may  be  unmeaning,  not  only 
to  number  with  other  beings,  but  to  subject  to  number 
in  regard  to  His  own  intrinsic  characteristics.      That 
is,  to  apply  arithmetical  notions  to  Him  may  beasun- 
philosophical  as  it  is  profane.     Though  He  is  at  once 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  the  Avord  ''  Trinity  " 
belongs  to  those  notions  of  Him  which  are  forced  on 
us  by  the  necessity  of  our  finite  conceptions,  the  real 
and  immutable  distinction  which  exists  between  Per- 
son and  Person  implying  in  itself  no  infringement  of 
His  real  and  numerical  Unity.     And  if  it  be  asked 
how,  if  we  cannot  speak  of  Him  as  Three,  we  can 
speak  of  Him  as  One,  I  reply  that  He  is  not  One  in 
the  way  in  which  created  things  are  severally  units  ; 
for  one,  as  applied  to  ourselves,  is  used  in  contrast  to 
two  or  three  and  a  whole  series  of  numbers  ;  but  of 
the  Supreme  Being  it  is  safer  to  use  the  word  *'  monad  " 


Profession,  49 

than  unit,  for  He  has  not  even  such  relation  to  His 
creatures  as  to  allow,  philosophically  speaking,  of  our 
contrasting  Him  with  them. 

Coming  back  to  the  main  subject,  which  I  have 
illustrated  at  the  risk  of  digression,  I  observe,  that  an 
alleged  fact  is  not  therefore  impossible  because  it  is 
inconceivable,  for  the  incompatible  notions,  in  which 
consists  its  inconceivableness,  need  not  each  of  them 
really  belong  to  it  in  that  fulness  which  involves  their 
being  incompatible  with  each  other.  I  deny  indeed 
the  possibility  of  two  straight  lines  enclosing  a  space, 
on  the  ground  of  its  being  inconceivable ;  but  I  do  so 
because  a  straight  line  is  a  notion  and  nothing  more, 
not  a  thing,  to  which  I  may  have  attached  a  notion 
more  or  less  unfaithful.  I  have  defined  a  straight 
line  in  my  own  way  at  my  own  pleasure  ;  the  question 
is  not  one  of  facts  at  all,  but  of  the  consistency  with 
each  other  of  definitions  and  of  their  logical  conse- 
quences. 

''  Space  is  not  infinite,  for  nothing  but  the  Creator 
is  such  :"— starting  from  this  thesis  as  a  theological  in- 
formation, to  be  assumed  as  a  fact,  though  not  one  of 
experience,  we  arrive  at  once  at  an  insoluble  mystery ; 
for,  if  space  be  not  infinite,  it  is  finite,  and  finite  space 
is  a  contradiction  in  notions,  space,  as  such,  implying 
the  absence  of  boundaries.  Here  again  it  is  our  notion 
that  carries  us  beyond  the  fact,  and  in  opposition  to  it, 
showing  that  from  the  first  what  we  apprehend  of 
space  does  not  in  all  respects  correspond  to  the  thing, 
of  which  indeed  we  have  no  ima^-e. 

This,  then,  is  another  instance  in  which  the  juxta- 
position of  notions  by  the  logical  faculty  lands  us  in 
what  are  commonly  called  mysteries.      Notions  are 


50  Notional  Assents, 

but  aspects  of  things ;  the  free  deductions  from  one  of 
these  necessaril}^  contradicts  the  free  deductions  from 
another.  After  proceeding-  in  our  investigations  a 
certain  way,  suddenly  a  blank  or  a  maze  presents  it- 
self before  the  mental  vision,  as  when  the  eye  is  con- 
fused by  the  varying  slides  of  a  telescope.  Thus,  we 
believe  in  the  infinitude  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  but 
we  can  have  no  experience  of  infinitude  as  a  fact ;  the 
w^ord  stands  for  a  definition  or  a  notion.  Hence,  when 
we  try  how  to  reconcile  the  fulness  of  mercy  with  ex- 
actitude in  sanctity  and  justice,  or  to  explain  that  the 
tokens  of  creative  skill  need  not  suggest  any  want  of 
creative  power,  we  feel  we  are  not  masters  of  our 
subject.  We  apprehend  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  as- 
sent to  these  theological  truths  as  mysteries ;  did  we 
not  apprehend  them  at  all,  we  should  be  merely  as- 
serting ;  though  even  then  we  might  convert  that  as- 
sertion into  an  assent,  if  we  wished  to  do  so,  as  I  have 
already  shown,  by  making  it  the  subject  of  a  proposi- 
tion, and  predicating  of  it  that  it  is  true. 


2.  Credence. 

What  I  mean  b}^  giving  credence  to  propositions  is 
pretty  much  the  same  as  having  "no  doubt"  about 
them.  It  is  the  sort  of  assent  which  we  give  to  those 
opinions  and  professed  facts  which  are  ever  present- 
ing themselves  to  us  without  any  effort  of  ours,  and 
which  we  commonly  take  for  granted,  thereby  obtain- 
ing a  broad  foundation  of  thought  for  ourselves,  and 
a  medium  of  intercourse  between  ourselves  and  others. 
This  form  of  notional  assent  comprises  a  great  vari- 


Credence,  ^  i 

cty  of  subject-matters;  and  is,  as  I  have  implied,  of 
an  otiose  and  passive  character,  accepting  whatevei 
comes  to  hand,  from  whatever  quarter,  warranted  oi 
not,  so  that  it  convey  nothing  on  the  face  of  it  to  its 
own  disadvantage.  From  the  time  that  we  begin  to 
observe,  think,  and  reason,  to  the  final  failure  of  our 
powers,  we  are  ever  acquiring  fresh  and  fresh  infor- 
mations by  means  of  our  senses,  and  still  more  from 
others  and  from  books.  The  friends  or  strangers 
whom  we  fall  in  with  in  the  course  of  the  day,  the 
conversations  or  discussions  to  which  we  are  parties, 
the  newspapers,  the  light  reading  of  the  season,  our 
recreations,  our  rambles  in  the  country,  our  foreign 
tours,  all  pour  their  contributions  of  intellectual  mat- 
ter into  the  storehouses  of  our  memory ;  and,  though 
much  may  be  lost,  much  is  retained.  These  informa- 
tions, thus  received  with  a  spontaneous  assent,  con- 
stitute the  furniture  of  the  mind,  and  make  the  differ- 
ence between  its  civilized  condition  and  a  state  of  na- 
ture. They  are  its  education,  as  far  as  general  know- 
ledge can  so  be  called ;  and,  though  education  is  dis- 
cipline as  well  as  learning,  still,  unless  the  mind  impli- 
citly welcomes  the  truths,  real  or  ostensible,  which 
education  supphes,  it  will  gain  neither  formation  nor 
a  stimulus  for  its  activity  and  progress.  Besides,  to 
believe  frankly  what  it  is  told,  is  in  the  young  an  ex- 
ercise of  teachableness  and  humility. 

Credence  is  the  means  by  which,  in  high  and  low, 
in  the  man  of  the  world  and  in  the  recluse,  our  bare 
and  barren  nature  is  overrun  and  diversified  from 
without  with  a  rich  and  living  clothing.  It  is  by  such 
ungrudging,  prompt  assents  to  what  is  offered  to  us 
so  lavishl}^  that  we  become  possessed  of  the  prin- 


52  Notional  Assejtts, 

ciples,  doctrines,  sentiments,  facts,  which  constitute 
useful,  and  especiall}^  liberal  knowledge.  These  vari- 
ous teachings,  shallow  though  they  be,  are  of  a 
breadth  which  secures  against  those  laaince  of  know 
ledge  which  are  apt  to  befall  the  professed  student, 
and  keep  us  up  to  the  mark  in  literature,  in  the  arts, 
in  history,  and  in  public  matters.  The}'-  give  us  in  great 
measure  our  morality,  our  politics,  our  social  code, 
our  art  of  life.  They  supply  the  elements  of  public 
opinion,  the  watchwords  of  patriotism,  the  standards 
of  thought  and  action;  they  are  our  mutual  under- 
standings, our  channels  of  sympathy,  our  means  of 
co-operation,  and  the  bond  of  our  civil  union.  They 
become  our  moral  language  ;  we  learn  them  as  we 
learn  our  mother  tongue  ;  they  distinguish  us  from 
foreigners ;  they  are,  in  each  of  us,  not  indeed  per- 
sonal, but  national  characteristics. 

This  account  of  them  implies  that  they  are  received 
with  a  notional,  not  a  real  assent ;  they  are  too  mani- 
fold to  be  received  in  any  other  way.  Even  the  most 
practised  and  earnest  minds  must  needs  be  superficial 
in  the  greater  part  of  their  attainments.  They  know 
just  enough  on  all  subjects,  in  literature,  history, 
politics,  philosophy,  and  art,  to  be  able  to  converse 
sensibly  on  them,  and  to  understand  those  wdio  are 
really  deep  in  one  or  other  of  them.  This  is  what  is 
called,  with  a  special  appositeness,  a  gentleman's 
knowledge,  as  contrasted  with  that  of  a  professional 
man,  and  is  neither  worthless  nor  despicable,  if  used 
for  its  proper  ends;  but  it  is  never  more  than  the 
furniture  of  the  mind,  as  I  have  called  it ;  it  never  is 
thoroughly  assimilated  with  it.  Yet  of  course  there 
is  nothing  to  hinder  those  who  have  even  the  largest 


Crede7ice. 


53 


stock  of  such  notions  from  devoting  themselves  to  one 
or  other  of  the  subjects  to  which  those  notions  belong, 
and  mastering  it  with  a  real  apprehension  ;  and  then 
their  general  knowledge  of  all  subjects  may  be  made 
variously  useful  in  the  direction  of  that  particular 
study  or  pursuit  which  they  have  selected. 

I  have  been  speaking  of  secular  knowledge  ;  but 
rehgion  may  be  made  a  subject  of  notional  assent  also, 
and  is  especially  so  made  in  our  own  country.  Theo- 
logy, as  such,  always  is  notional,  as  being  scientific : 
religion,  as  being  personal,  should  be  real ;  but,  ex- 
cept within  a  small  range  of  subjects,  it  commonly  is 
not  real  in  England.  As  to  Catholic  populations,  such 
as  those  of  mediaeval  Europe,  or  the  Spain  of  this 
day,  or  quasi-Catholic  as  those  of  Russia,  among 
them  assent  to  religious  objects  is  real,  not  notional. 
To  them  the  Supreme  Being,  our  Lord,  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  Angels  and  Saints,  heaven  and  hell,  are  as 
present  as  if  they  were  objects  of  sight ;  but  such  a 
faith  does  not  suit  the  genius  of  modern  England. 
There  is  in  the  literary  world  just  now  an  affectation 
of  calling  religion  a  "-  sentiment ;  "  and  it  must  be 
confessed  that  usually  it  is  nothing  more  with  our  own 
people,  educated  or  rude.  Objects  are  barely  neces- 
sary to  it.  I  do  not  say  so  of  old  Calvinism  or  Evan- 
gelical Religion ;  I  do  not  call  the  religion  of  Leigh- 
ton,  Beveridge,  Wesley,  Thomas  Scott,  or  Cecil  a 
mere  sentiment ;  nor  do  I  so  term  the  high  Anglican- 
ism of  the  present  generation.  But  these  are  only 
denominations,  parties,  schools,  compared  with  the 
national  religion  of  England  in  its  length  and  breadth. 
*'  Bible  Religion  "  is  both  the  recognized  title  and 
the  best  description  of  English  rehgion. 


54  Notional  Assents. 

It  consists,  not  in  rites  or  creeds,  but  mainly  in 
having-  the  Bible  read  in  Church,  in  the  family,  and 
in  private.  Now  I  am  far  indeed  from  undervaluing 
that  mere  knowledge  of  Scripture  which  is  imparted 
to  the  population  thus  promiscuously.  At  least  in 
England,  it  has  to  a  certain  point  made  up  for  great 
and  grievous  losses  in  its  Christianit}^  The  reitera- 
tion again  and  again  in  fixed  course  in  the  public  ser- 
vice of  the  words  of  inspired  teachers  under  both 
Covenants,  and  that  in  grave  majestic  English,  has  in 
matter  of  fact  been  to  our  people  a  vast  benefit.  It 
has  attuned  their  minds  to  religious  thoughts ;  it  has 
given  them  a  high  moral  standard  ;  it  has  served 
them  in  associating  religion  with  compositions  which, 
even  humanl}^  considered,  are  among  the  most  sub- 
lime and  beautiful  ever  written  ;  especially,  it  has  im- 
pressed upon  them  the  series  of  Divine  Providences 
in  behalf  of  man  from  his  creation  to  his  end,  and, 
above  all,  the  words,  deeds,  and  sacred  sufferings  of 
Him  in  whom  all  the  Providences  of  God  centre. 

So  far  the  indiscriminate  reading  of  Scripture  has 
been  of  service ;  still,  much  more  is  necessary  than 
the  benefits  which  I  have  enumerated,  to  answer  to 
the  idea  of  a  Religion ;  Avhereas  our  national  form 
professes  to  be  little  more  than  thus  reading  the  Bible 
and  living  a  correct  life.  It  is  not  a  religion  of  per- 
sons and  things,  of  acts  of  faith  and  of  direct  devo- 
tion ;  but  of  sacred  scenes  and  pious  sentiments.  It 
has  been  comparatively  careless  of  creed  and  cate- 
chism ;  and  has  in  consequence  shown  little  sense  of 
the  need  of  consistency  in  the  matter  of  its  teaching. 
Its  doctrines  are  not  so  much  facts,  as  stereotyped  as- 
pects of  facts ;  and  it  is  afraid,  so  to  say,  of  walking 


opinion.  55 

round  them.  It  induces  its  followers  to  be  content 
with  this  meagre  view  of  revealed  truth ;  or,  rather, 
it  is  suspicious  and  protests,  or  is  frightened,  as  if  it 
saw  a  figure  in  a  picture  move  out  of  its  frame,  when 
our  Lord,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  or  the  Holy  Apostles, 
are  spoken  of  as  real  beings,  and  really  such  as  Scrip- 
ture implies  them  to  be.  I  am  not  denying  that  the 
assent  which  it  inculcates  and  elicits  is  genuine. as  re- 
gards its  contracted  range  of  doctrine,  but  it  is  at 
best  notional.  What  Scripture  especially  illustrates 
from  its  first  page  to  its  last,  is  God's  Providence  ; 
and  that  is  nearly  the  only  doctrine  held  with  a  real 
assent  by  the  mass  of  religious  Englishmen.  Hence 
the  Bible  is  so  great  a  solace  and  refuge  to  them  in 
trouble.  I  repeat,  I  am  not  speaking  of  particular 
schools  and  parties  in  England,  whether  of  the  High 
Church  or  the  Low,  but  of  the  mass  of  piously- 
minded  and  well-living  people  in  all  ranks  of  the 
community. 

3.    Opinion. 

That  class  of  assents  which  I  have  called  Credence, 
being  a  spontaneous  acceptance  of  the  various  infor- 
mations, which  are  by  whatever  means  conveyed  to 
our  minds,  sometimes  goes  by  the  name  of  Opinion. 
When  we  speak  of  a  man's  opinions,  what  do  we 
mean,  but  the  collection  of  notions  which  he  happens 
to  have,  and  does  not  easily  part  with,  though  he  has 
neither  sufficient  proof  nor  firm  grasp  of  them  ?  This 
is  true  ;  however,  Opinion  is  a  word  of  various  signi- 
fications, and  I  prefer  to  use  it  in  my  own.  Besides 
standing  for  Credence,  it  is  sometimes  taken  to  mean 


56  Notional  Assents. 

Conviction,  as  when  we  speak  of  the  ''  variety  of 
religious  opinions,"  or  of  being  "  persecuted  for  re- 
ligious opinions,"  or  of  our  having  ''  no  opinion  on  a 
particular  point,"  or  of  another  having  ''  no  rehgious 
opinions."  And  sometimes  it  is  used  in  contrast 
with  Conviction,  as  sjnon^-mous  with  a  light  and 
casual,  though  genuine  assent ;  thus,  if  a  man  was 
every  day  changing  his  mind,  that  is,  his  assents, 
we  might  say,  that  he  v/as  ver}^  changeable  in  his 
opinions. 

I  shall  here  use  the  word  to  denote  an  assent,  but 
an  assent  to  a  proposition,  not  as  true,  but  as  prob- 
ably true,  that  is,  to  the  probability  of  that  which  the 
proposition  enunciates ;  and,  as  that  probability  may 
vary  in  strength  without  limit,  so  may  the  cogency 
and  moment  of  the  opinion.     This  account  of  Opin- 
ion may  seem  to  confuse  it  vvdth  Inference ;  for  the 
strength  of  an  inference  varies  v/ith  its  premisses,  and 
is  a  probabilit}^ ;  but  the  two  acts  of  mind  are  really 
distinct.     Opinion,  as  being  an  assent,  is  independent 
of  premisses.      We  have  opinions  which  we    never 
think  of  defending  by  argument,  though,  of  course, 
we  think  they  can  be  so  defended.     We  are  even 
obstinate  in  them,  or  what  is  called  "  opinionated," 
and  may  say  that  Ave  have  a  right  to  think  just  as  we 
please,  reason  or  no  reason;  whereas  Inference  is  in 
its  nature  and  by  its  profession  conditional  and  un- 
certain.    To  say  that  "  we  shall  have  a  fine  hay-har- 
vest if  the  present  weather  lasts,"  does  not  come  of 
the  same  state  of  mind  as,  ''  I  am  of  opinion  that  we 
shall  have  a  fine  hay-harvest  this  year." 

Opinion,  thus  explained,  has  more  connexion  v/ith 
Credence  than  with  Inference.     It  differs  from  Cre- 


Presuniptio7i.  5  7 

dence  in  these  two  points,  viz.  that,  while  Opinion 
exphcitly  assents  to  the  probabihty  of  a  given  propo- 
sition, Credence  is  an  impHcit  assent  to  its  truth.  It 
differs  from  Credence  in  a  third  respect,  viz.  in  being  a 
reflex  act ; — when  we  take  a  thing  for  granted,  we 
have  credence  in  it ;  when  we  begin  to  reflect  upon 
our  credence,  and  to  measure,  estimate,  and  modify 
it,  then  we  are  forming  an  opinion. 

It  is  in  this  sense  that  Catholics  speak  of  theological 
opinion,  in  contrast  with  faith  in  dogma.  It  is  much 
more  than  an  inferential  act,  but  it  is  distinct  from  an 
act  of  certitude.  And  this  is  really  the  sense  which 
Protestants  give  to  the  word,  w^hen  they  interpret  it 
by  Conviction  ;  for  their  highest  opinion  in  religion 
is,  generally  speaking,  an  assent  to  a  probability — as 
even  Butler  has  been  understood  or  misunderstood 
to  teach, — and  therefore  consistent  with  toleration  of 
its  contradictory. 

Opinion,  being  such  as  I  have  described,  is  a  notion- 
al assent,  for  its  predicate  is  the  abstract  word  ''  pro- 
bable." 

4.  Presumption. 

By  Presumption  I  mean  an  assent  to  first  princi- 
ples ;  and  by  first  principles  I  mean  the  propositions 
with  which  we  start  in  reasoning  on  any  given  sub- 
ject-matter. They  are  in  consequence  very  numer- 
ous, and  vary  in  great  measure  with  the  persons  who 
reason,  according  to  their  judgment  and  powders  of 
assent,  being  received  by  some  minds,  not  by  others, 
and  only  a  few  of  them  received  universally.  They 
are  all  of  them  notions,  not  images,  because  they  ex- 


58  Notional  Assents. 

press  what  is  abstract,  not  what  is  individual  and 
from  direct  experience. 

I.  Sometimes  our  trust  in  our  powers  of  reasoning 
and  memory,  that  is,  our  implicit  assent  to  their  tell- 
ing- truly,  is  treated  as  a  first  principle ;  but  we  can- 
not properly  be  said  to  have  any  trust  in  them  as 
faculties.  At  most  we  trust  in  particular  acts  of 
memory  and  reasoning.  We  are  sure  there  was  a 
yesterday,  and  that  we  did  this  or  that  in  it ;  we  are 
sure  that  three  times  six  is  eighteen,  and  that  the 
diagonal  of  a  square  is  longer  than  the  side.  So  far 
as  this  we  may  be  said  to  trust  the  mental  act,  by 
wdiich  the  object  of  our  assent  is  verified ;  but,  in 
doing  so,  we  imply  no  recognition  of  a  general  power 
or  facult}^  or  of  any  capability  or  affection  of  our 
minds,  over  and  above  the  particular  act.  We  know 
indeed  that  we  have  a  faculty  by  which  we  remember, 
as  we  know  Ave  have  a  faculty  by  which  we  breathe ; 
but  Vv^e  gain  this  knowledge  by  abstraction  or  infer- 
ence from  its  particular  acts,  not  by  direct  experience. 
Nor  do  we  trust  in  the  faculty  of  memory  or  reason- 
ing as  such,  even  after  that  we  have  inferred  its  exist- 
ence ;  for  its  acts  are  often  inaccurate,  nor  do  we  in- 
variably assent  to  them. 

However,  if  I  must  speak  my  mind,  I  have  another 
ground  for  reluctance  to  speak  of  our  trusting  memory 
or  reasoning,  except  indeed  by  a  figure  of  speech.  It 
seems  to  me  unphilosophical  to  speak  of  trusting  our- 
selves. We  are  what  we  are,  and  we  use,  not  trust 
our  faculties.  To  debate  about  trusting  in  a  case  like 
this,  is  parallel  to  the  confusion  implied  in  wishing  we 
had  had  a  choice  if  we  would  be  created  or  no,  or 
speculating  what  I  should  be  like,  if  I  Vv^ere  born  of 


Fresumption,  59 

other  parents.  "Proximus  sum  egomet  mihi."  Our 
consciousness  of  self  is  prior  to  all  questions  of  trust 
or  assent.  We  act  according  to  our  nature,  by  means 
of  ourselves,  when  we  remember  or  reason.  We  are 
as  little  able  to  accept  or  reject  our  mental  constitu- 
tion, as  our  being.  We  have  not  the  option  ;  we  can 
but  misuse  or  mar  its  functions.  We  do  not  confront 
or  bargain  with  ourselves ;  and  therefore  I  cannot 
call  the  trustworthiness  of  the  faculties  of  memory  and 
reasoning  one  of  our  first  principles. 

2.  Next,  as  to  the  proposition,  that  things  exist 
external  to  ourselves,  this  I  do  consider  a  first  prin- 
ciple, and  one  of  universal  reception.  It  is  founded 
on  an  instinct ;  I  so  call  it,  because  the  brute  creation 
possesses  it.  This  instinct  is  directed  towards  indi- 
vidual phenomena,  one  by  one,  and  has  nothing  of  the 
character  of  a  generalization ;  and,  since  it  exists  in 
brutes,  the  gift  of  reason  is  not  a  condition  of  its 
existence,  and  it  may  justly  be  considered  an  instinct 
in  man.  What  the  human  mind  does  is  what  brutes 
cannot  do,  viz.  to  draw  from  our  ever-recurring 
experiences  of  its  testimony  in  particulars  a  general 
proposition,  and,  because  this  instinct  or  intuition 
acts  whenever  the  phenomena  of  sense  present  them- 
selves, to  lay  down  in  broad  terms,  by  an  inductive 
process,  the  great  aphorism,  that  there  is  an  external 
world,  and  that  all  the  phenomena  of  sense  proceed 
from  it.  This  general  proposition,  to  which  we  go 
on  to  assent,  goes  (extensive^  though  not  intensive)  far 
be3-ond  our  experience,  illimitable  as  that  experience 
may  be,  and  represents  a  notion. 

3.  I  have  spoken,  and   I  think  rightly  spoken,  of 
instinct  as  a  force  which  spontaneously  impels  us, 


6o  Notional  AssQ/iis. 

not  only  to  bodily  movements,  but  to  mental  acts. 
It  is  instinct  which  leads  the  quasi-intelligent  prin- 
ciple (v/hatever  it  is)  in  brutes  to  perceive  in  the 
phenomena  of  sense  a  something  distinct  from  and 
beyond  those  phenomena.     It  is  instinct  which  impels 
the  child  to  recognize  in  the  smiles  or  the  frowns  of 
a  countenance  which  meets  his  eyes,  not  only  a  being 
external  to  himself,  but  one  whose  looks  elicit  in  him 
confidence  or  fear.     And,  as  he  instinctively  inter- 
prets these  ph3'sical  phenomena,  as  tokens  of  things 
beyond  themselves,  so  from  the  sensations  attendant 
upon  certain  classes  of  his  thoughts  and  actions  he 
gains  a  perception  of  an  external  being,  who  reads 
his  mind,  to  whom  he  is  responsible,  who  praises  and 
blames,  who  promises  and  threatens.     As  I  am  only 
illustrating  a  general  vievvr  by  examples,  I  shall  take 
this  analogy  for  granted  here.     As  then  v/e  liave  our 
initial  knowledge  of  the  universe  through  sense,  so 
do  we  in  the  first  instance  begin  to  learn  about  its 
Lord  and  God  from  conscience;  and,  as  from  par- 
ticular acts   of  that  instinct,   whereby    experiences, 
which   ultimately   are   mere   images   on   the  retina, 
become  the  means  of  our  perceiving  something  real 
beyond  them,  we  go  on  to  draw  the  general  conclu- 
sion that  there  is  a  vast  external  world,  so  from  the 
recurring  instances  in  which  conscience  acts,  forcing 
upon  us  importunate^  the  mandate  of  a  Superior,  we 
have  fresh  and  fresh  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a 
Sovereign  Ruler,  from  Avhom  those  particular  dictates 
which  we  experience  proceed;  so  that,  with  limita- 
tions which  cannot  here  be  made  without  di^rressino- 
from  my  main  subject,  we  may,  by  means  of  that  in- 
duction from  particular  experiences,  have  as  good  a 


Presumption.  6 1 

warrant  for  concluding  the  Ubiquitous  Presence  of 
One  Supreme  Master,  as  Ave  have,  from  parallel  ex- 
perience of  sense,  for  assenting  to  the  fact  of  a  multi- 
form and  vast  v/orld,  material  and  mental. 

However,  this  assent  is  notional,  because  we  gene- 
ralize a  consistent,  methodical  form  of  Divine  Unity 
and  Personality  with  Its  attributes,  from  particular 
experiences  of  the  religious  instinct,  which  are  them- 
selves, only  intensive,  not  extensive,  and  in  the  ima- 
gination, not  intellectually,  notices  of  Its  Presence ; 
though  at  the  same  time  that  assent  may  become 
real  of  course,  as  may  the  assent  to  the  external 
world,  viz.  when  we  apply  our  general  knowledge 
to  a  particular  instance  of  that  knowledge,  as,  ac- 
cording to  a  former  remai'k,  the  general  "  varium  et 
mutabile  "  was  realized  in  Dido.  And  in  thus  treat- 
ing the  origin  of  these  great  notions,  I  am  not  forget- 
ting the  aid  which  from  our  earliest  years  we  receive 
from  teaching,  nor  am  I  denying  the  influence  of 
certain  original  forms  of  thinking  or  formative  ideas, 
connatural  with  our  minds,  without  which  we  could 
not  reason  at  all.  I  am  only  contemplating  the  mind 
as  it  moves  in  fact,  by  whatever  hidden  mechanism ; 
as  a  locomotive  engine  could  not  move  without 
steam,  but  still,  under  v/hatever  number  of  forces,  it 
certainly  does  start  from  Birmingham  and  does  ar- 
rive in  London. 

4.  And  so  again,  as  regards  the  first  principles  ex- 
pressed in  such  propositions  as  ''  There  is  a  right  and 
a  wrong,"  ''  a  true  and  a  false,"  "  a  just  and  an  un- 
just," ''a  beautiful  and  a  deformed;"  they  are  ab- 
stractions to  which  we  give  a  notional  assent  in  con- 
sequence of  our  particular  experiences  of  qualities  in 


62  Notional  Assents. 

the  concrete,  to  which  we  give  a  real  assent.  As  we 
form  our  notion  of  whiteness  from  the  actual  sight  of 
snow,  milk,  a  lily,  or  a  cloud,  so,  after  experiencing 
the  sentiment  of  approbation  which  arises  in  us  on 
the  sight  of  certain  acts  one  by  one,  w^e  go  on  to 
assign  to  that  sentiment  a  cause,  and  to  those  acts  a 
quality,  and  we  give  to  this  notional  cause  or  quality 
the  name  of  virtue,  which  is  an  abstraction,  not  a 
thing.  And  in  like  manner,  w^hen  we  have  been 
affected  by  a  certain  specific  admiring  pleasure  at 
the  sight  of  this  or  that  concrete  object,  w^e  proceed 
by  an  arbitrary  act  of  the  mind  to  give  a  name  to 
the  hypothetical  cause  or  quality  in  the  abstract, 
which  excites  it.  We  speak  of  it  as  beautifulness, 
and  henceforth,  when  we  call  a  thing  beautiful,  we 
mean  by  the  word  nothing  else  than  a  certain  quality 
of  things  which  creates  in  us  this  special  sensation. 

These  so-called  first  principles  are  really  conclusions 
or  abstractions  from  particular  experiences ;  and  an 
assent  to  their  existence  is  not  an  assent  to  things  or 
their  images,  but  to  notions,  1-eal  assent  being  con- 
fined to  the  propositions  directly  embodying  those 
experiences.  Such  notions  indeed  are  an  evidence  of 
the  reality  of  the  special  sentiments,  without  which 
they  would  not  have  been  formed  ;  but  in  themselves 
they  are  abstractions  from  facts,  not  elementary  truths 
prior  to  reasoning. 

I  am  not  of  course  dreaming  of  den3'ing  the  object- 
ive existence  of  the  Moral  Law,  nor  our  instinctive 
recognition  of  the  immutable  difference  in  the  moral 
quality  of  acts,  as  elicited  in  us  by  one  instance  of 
them.  Even  one  act  of  cruelty,  ingratitude,  generos- 
ity, or  justice  reveals  to  us  at  once  /?^/^;/ j-^Vt' the  immu- 


Prestmiption,  6^^ 

table  distinction  between  those  qualities  and  their 
contraries ;  that  is,  in  that  particular  instance  and  pro 
Jiac  vice.  From  such  experience — an  experience  which 
is  ever  recurring — we  proceed  to  abstract  and  gener- 
alize ;  and  thus  the  abstract  proposition  ''  There  is  a 
right  and  a  wrong,"  as  representing  an  act  of  infer- 
ence, is  received  by  the  mind  with  a  notional,  not  a 
real  assent.  However,  in  proportion  as  we  obey  the 
particular  dictates  which  are  its  tokens,  so  are  we  led 
on  more  and  more  to  view  it  in  the  association  of 
those  particulars,  which  are  real,  and  virtually  to 
change  our  notion  of  it  into  the  image  of  that  objective 
fact,  wdiich  in  each  particular  case  it  undeniably  is. 

5.  Another  of  these  presumptions  is  the  belief  in 
causation.  It  is  to  me  a  perplexity  that  grave  authors 
seem  to  enunciate  as  an  intuitive  truth,  that  every 
thing  must  have  a  cause.  If  this  were  so,  the  voice 
of  nature  would  tell  false ;  for  why  in  that  case  stop 
short  at  One,  wdio  is  Himself  without  cause?  The 
assent  which  we  give  to  the  proposition,  as  a  first 
principle,  that  nothing  happens  without  a  cause,  is 
derived,  in  the  first  instance,  from  what  we  knoAV  of 
ourselves ;  and  we  argue  analogically  from  what  is 
within  us  to  what  is  external  to  us.  One  of  the  first 
experiences  of  an  infant  is  that  of  his  willing  and 
doing  ;  and,  as  time  goes  on,  one  of  the  first  tempta- 
tions of  the  boy  is  to  bring  home  to  himself  the  fact 
of  his  sovereign  arbitrary  power,  though  it  be  at  the 
price  of  waywardness,  mischievousness,  and  disobe- 
dience. And  when  his  parents,  as  antagonists  of  this 
wilfulness,  begin  to  restrain  him,  and  to  bring  his 
mind  and  conduct  into  shape,  then  he  has  a  second 
series  of  experiences  of  cause  and  effect,  and  that  upon 


64  Notional  Assents, 

a  principle  or  rule.  Thus  the  notion  of  causation  is 
one  of  the  first  lessons  which  he  learns  from  experi- 
ence, that  experience  limiting  it  to  agents  possessed 
of  intelligence  and  will.  It  is  the  notion  of  power 
combined  with  a  purpose  and  an  end.  Physical  phe- 
nomena, as  such,  are  without  sense ;  and  experience 
teaches  us  nothing  about  physical  phenomena  as 
causes.  Accordingly,  wherever  the  world  is  young, 
the  movements  and  changes  of  physical  nature  have 
been  and  are  spontaneously  ascribed  by  its  inhabitants 
to  the  presence  and  will  of  hidden  agents,  who  haunt 
every  part  of  it,  the  woods,  the  mountains  and  the 
streams,  the  air  and  the  stars,  for  good  or  for  evil ; 
nor  is  there  anything  illogical  in  such  a  belief.  It 
rests  on  the  argument  from  analogy. 

As  time  goes  on,  and  society  is  formed,  and  the  idea 
of  science  is  mastered,  a  different  aspect  of  the  physi- 
cal universe  presents  itself  to  the  mind.  Since  causa- 
tion implies  a  sequence  of  acts  in  our  own  case,  and 
our  doing  is  always  posterior,  never  contemporaneous 
or  prior,  to  our  willing,  therefore,  when  we  witness 
invariable  antecedents  and  consequents,  we  call  the 
former  the  cause  of  the  latter,  though  intelligence  is 
absent,  from  the  analogy  of  external  appearances.  At 
length  we  go  onto  confuse  causation  v,^ith  order;  and, 
because  we  happen  to  have  made  a  successful  analysis 
of  some  complicated  assemblage  of  phenomena,  which 
experience  has  brought  before  us  in  the  visible  scene 
of  things,  and  have  reduced  them  to  a  tolerable  de- 
pendence on  each  other,  we  call  the  ultimate  points  ol 
this  analysis,  and  the  hypothetical  facts  in  which  the 
whole  mass  of  phenomena  is  gathered  up,  by  the  name 
of  causes,  whereas  they  are  really  only  the  formula 


Presttmption,  65 

under  which  those  phenomena  are  conveniently  repre- 
sented. Thus  the  constitutional  formula,  "•  The  kino- 
can  do  no  wrong,"  is  not  a  fact,  or  a  cause  of  the  Con- 
stitution, but  a  happy  mode  of  bringing  out  its  genius, 
of  determining  the  correlations  of  its  elements,  and  of 
grouping  or  regulating  political  rules  and  proceedings 
in  a  particular  direction  and  in  a  particular  form. 
And  in  like  manner,  that  all  the  particles  of  matter 
throughout  the  universe  are  attracted  to  each  other 
with  a  force  varying  inversely  with  the  square  of  their 
respective  distances,  is  a  profound  idea,  harmonizing 
the  physical  works  of  the  Creator ;  but  even  could  it 
be  proved  to  be  a  universal  fact,  and  also  to  be  the 
actual  cause  of  the  movements  of  all  bodies  in  the  uni- 
verse, still  it  would  not  be  an  experience,  any  more 
than  is  the  mythological  doctrine  of  the  presence  of 
innumerable  spirits  in  physical  phenomena. 

Of  these  two  senses  of  the  word  "  cause,"  viz.  that 
which  brings  a  thing  to  be,  and  that  on  which  a  thing 
under  given  circumstances  follows,  the  former  is  that 
of  which  our  experience  is  the  earlier  and  more  inti- 
mate, being  suggested  to  us  by  our  consciousness  of 
willing  and  doing.  The  latter  of  the  two  requires  a 
discrimination  and  exactness  of  thought  for  its  appre- 
hension, which  implies  special  mental  training  ;  else, 
how  do  we  learn  to  call  food  the  cause  of  refreshment, 
but  day  never  the  cause  of  night,  though  night  fol- 
lows day  more  surely  than  refreshment  follows  food  ? 
Starting,  then,  from  experience,  I  consider  a  cause  to 
be  an  effective  will ;  and,  by  the  doctrine  of  causation, 
I  mean  the  notion,  or  first  principle,  that  all  things 
come  of  effective  will ;  and  the  reception  or  presump- 
tion of  this  notion  is  a  notional  assent. 


66  Notio7ial  Assents, 

6.  As  to  causation  in  the  second  sense,  viz.  an  ordi- 
nary succession  of  antecedents  and  consequents,  or 
what  is  called  the  Order  of  Nature,  when  so  explained, 
it  falls  under  the  doctrine  of  general  laws  ;  and  of  this 
I  proceed  to  make  mention,  as  another  first  principle 
or  notion,  derived  by  us  from  experience,  and  accepted 
with  what  I  have  called  a  presumption.     By  natural 
law  I  mean  the  fact  that  things  happen  according  to 
fixed  circumstances,  and  not  without  them  and  at  ran- 
dom :  that  is,  that  they  happen  in  an  order ;  and,  as 
all  things  in  the  universe  are  unit  and  individual,  or- 
der implies  a  certain  repetition,  whether  of  things  or 
like  things,  or  of  their  affections  and  relations.    Thus 
we  have  experience,  for  instance,  of  the  regularity  of 
our  physical  functions,  such  as  the  beating  of  the 
pulse  and  the  heaving  of  the  breath  ;  of  the  recurring 
sensations  of  hunger  and  thirst ;  of  the  alternation  of 
waking  and  sleeping,  and  the  succession  of  youth  and 
age.     In  like  manner  we  have  experience  of  the  great 
recurring  phenomena  of  the  heavens  and  earth,  of  day 
and  night,  summer  and  winter.      Also,  we  have  ex- 
perience of  a  like  uniform  succession  in  the  instance  of 
fire  burning,  water  choking,  stones  falling  down  and 
not  up,  iron  moving  towards  a  magnet,  friction  fol- 
lowed by  sparks  and  crackhng,  an  oar  looking  bent  in 
the  stream,  and  compressed  steam  bursting  its  vessel. 
Also,  by  scientific  analysis,  Ave  are  led  to  the  conclu- 
sion   that   phenomena,    which    seem   very    different 
from  each  other,  admit  of  being  grouped  together  as 
modes  of  the  operation  of  one  hypothetical  law,  acting 
under  varied  circumstances.  For  instance,  the  motion 
of  a  stone  falling  freely,  of  a  projectile,  and  of  a  planet, 
may  be  generalized  as  one  and  the  same  property,  in 


Presumption,  67 

each  of  them,  of  the  particles  of  matter;  and  this  gen- 
erahzation  loses  its  character  of  hypothesis,  and  be- 
comes a  probability,  in  proportion  as  we  have  reason 
for  thinking  on  other  grounds  that  the  particles  of  all 
matter  really  move  and  act  towards  each  other  in  one 
way  in  relation  to  space  and  time,  and  not  in  half  a 
dozen  ways  ;  that  is,  that  nature  acts  by  uniform  laws. 
And  thus  we  advance  to  the  general  notion  or  first 
principle  of  the  sovereignty  of  law  throughout  the 
universe. 

There  are  philosophers  who  go  farther,  and  teach, 
not  only  a  general,  but  an  invariable,  and  inviolable, 
and  necessary  uniformity  in  the  action  of  the  laws  of 
nature,  holding  that  every  thing  is  the  result  of  some 
law  or  laws,  and  that  exceptions  are  impossible;  but 
I  do  not  see  on  what  ground  of  experience  or  reason 
they  take  up  this  position.  Our  experience  is  directly 
adverse  to  such  a  doctrine,  for  no  one  example  of  an 
unvarying  law  can  be  pointed  out  as  a  fact  in  the 
whole  universe.  The  earth,  for  instance,  never  moves 
exactly  in  the  same  orbit  year  by  year,  but  is  in 
perpetual  vacillation.  It  will,  indeed,  be  replied  that 
this  arises  from  the  interaction  of  one  law  with 
another,  of  which  the  actual  orbit  is  only  the  acci- 
dental result,  that  the  earth  is  under  the  influence  of 
a  variety  of  attractions  from  cosmical  bodies,  and 
that,  if  it  is  subject  to  continual  aberrations  in  its 
course,  these  are  accounted  for  accurately  or  suffi- 
ciently by  the  presence  of  those  extraordinary  and 
variable  attractions : — science,  then,  by  its  analytical 
processes  sets  right  the  prima  facie  confusion.  Of 
course  ;  still  let  us  not  by  our  words  imply  that  we  are 
appealing  to  experience,  when  really  we  are  only  ac- 


68  Notional  Asse?its, 

counting,  and  that  by  hypothesis,  for  the  absence  of 
experience.  The  confusion  is  a  fact,  the  reasoning"  pro- 
cesses are  not  facts.  The  extraordinary  attractions  as- 
signed to  account  for  our  experience  of  that  confusion 
are  not  themselves  experienced  facts,  but  more  or  less 
probable  hypotheses,  argued  out  by  means  of  an  as- 
sumed analogy  between  the  cosmical  bodies  to  which 
those  attractions  are  referred  and  falling  bodies  on  the 
earth.  I  say  ''  assumed,"  because  that  analogy  (in 
other  words,  the  unfailing  uniformity  of  nature)  is  the 
very  point  wdiich  has  to  be  proved.  It  is  true,  that 
Ave  can  make  experiment  of  the  law  of  attraction  in 
the  case  of  bodies  on  the  earth ;  but,  I  repeat,  to  as- 
sume from  analogy  that,  as  stones  do  fall  to  the  earth, 
so  Jupiter,  if  let  alone,  would  fall  upon  the  earth  and 
the  earth  upon  Jupiter,  and  with  certain  peculiarities 
of  velocity  on  either  side,  is  to  have  recourse  to  an 
explanation  which  is  not  necessarily  valid,  unless 
nature  is  necessarily  uniform.  Nor,  indeed,  has  it 
yet  been  proved,  nor  ought  it  to  be  assumed,  even 
that  the  law  of  velocity  of  falling  bodies  on  the  earth 
is  invariable  in  its  operation ;  for  that  again  is  only 
an  instance  of  the  general  proposition,,  which  is  the 
very  thesis  in  debate.  It  seems  safer  then  to  hold 
that  the  order  of  nature  is  not  necessary,  but  general 
in  its  manifestations. 

But,  it  may  be  urged,  if  a  thing  happens  once,  it 
must  happen  always  ;  for  what  is  to  hinder  it  ?  Nay, 
on  the  contrary,  why,  because  one  particle  of  matter 
has  a  certain  property,  should  all  particles  have  the 
same  ?  Why,  because  particles  have  instanced  the 
property  a  thousand  times,  should  the  thousand  and 
first  instance  it  also  ?     It  is  prima  facie  unaccountable 


PrestiinptiorL  69 

that  an  accident  should  happen  twice,  not  to  speak 
of  its  happening  always.  If  we  expect  a  thing  to 
happen  twice,  it  is  because  we  think  it  is  not  an 
accident,  but  has  a  cause.  What  has  brought  about 
a  thing  once,  may  bring  it  about  twice.  What  is  to 
hinder  its  happening  ?  rather.  What  is  to  make  it 
happen  ?  Here  we  are  thrown  back  from  the  ques- 
tion of  Order  to  that  of  Causation.  A  law  is  not  a 
cause,  but  a  fact ;  but  when  we  come  to  the  ques- 
tion of  cause,  then,  as  I  have  said,  we  have  no  expe- 
rience of  any  cause  but  Will.  If,  then,  I  must  answer 
the  question.  What  is  to  alter  the  order  of  nature  ?  I 
reply.  That  which  willed  it ; — That  which  willed  it, 
can  unwill  it ;  and  the  invariableness  of  law  depends 
on  the  unchangeableness  of  that  Will. 

And  here  I  am  led  to  observe  that,  as  a  cause  im- 
plies a  will,  so  order  implies  a  purpose.  Did  we  see 
flint  celts,  in  their  various  receptacles  all  over  Europe, 
scored  always  with  certain  special  and  characteristic 
marks,  even  though  those  marks  had  no  assignable 
meaning  or  final  cause  whatever,  we  should  take  that 
very  repetition,  which  indeed  is  the  principle  of  order, 
to  be  a  proof  of  intelligence.  The  agency  then  which 
has  kept  up  and  keeps  up  the  general  laws  of  nature, 
energizing  at  once  in  Sirius  and  on  the  earth,  and  on 
the  earth  in  its  primary  period  as  well  as  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  must  be  Mind,  and  nothing  else,  and 
Mind  at  least  as  wide  and  as  enduring  in  its  living 
action,  as  the  immeasurable  ages  and  spaces  of  the 
universe  on  which  that  agency  has  left  its  traces. 

In  these  remarks  I  have  digressed  from  my  imme- 
diate subject,  but  they  have  some  bearing  on  points 
which  will  subsequently  come  into  discussion. 


JO  Notional  Assents, 

5.  Speculatio7i. 

Speculation  is  one  of  those  words  which,  in  the  ver- 
nacular, have  so  different  a  sense  from  what  they  bear 
in  philosophy.  It  is  commonly  taken  to  mean  a  con- 
jecture, or  a  venture  on  chances ;  but  its  proper 
meaning  is  mental  sight,  or  the  contemplation  of  men- 
tal operations  and  their  results  as  opposed  to  experi- 
ence, experiment,  or  sense,  analogous  to  its  meaning 
in  Shakespeare's  line,  ''  Thou  hast  no  speculation  in 
those  eyes."     In  this  sense  I  use  it  here. 

And  I  use  it  in  this  sense  to  denote  those  notional 
assents  which  are  the  most  direct,  explicit,  and  per- 
fect of  their  kind,  viz.  those  which  are  the  firm,  con- 
scious  acceptance    of   propositions    as    true.      This 
kind  of  assent  includes  the  assent  to  all  reasoning  and 
its  conclusions,  to  all  general  propositions,  to  all  rules 
of  conduct,  to  all  proverbs,  aphorisms,  sayings,  and 
reflections   on  "^men  and  society.     Of   course  mathe- 
matical investigations  and  truths  are  the  subjects  of 
this  speculative  assent.     So  are  legal  judgments,  and 
constitutional  maxims,  as  far  as  they  appeal  to  us  for 
assent.     So  are  the  determinations  of  science  ;  so  are 
the  principles,  disputations,  and  doctrines  of  theology. 
That  there  is  a  God,  that  He  has  certain  attributes, 
and  in  what  sense  He  can  be  said  to  have  attributes, 
that  He  has  done  certain  works,  that  He  has  made 
certain  revelations  of  Himself  and  of  His  will,  and 
what  they  are,  and  the  multiplied  bearings  of  the  parts 
of  the  teaching,  thus  developed  and  formed,  upon  each 
other,  all  this  is  the  subject  of  notional  assent,  and  of 
that  particular  department  of  it  which  I  have  called 
Speculation.     As  far  as  these  particular  subjects  can 


speculation.  7 1 

be  viewed  in  the  concrete  and  represent  experiences, 
they  can  be  received  by  real  assent  also ;  but  as  ex- 
pressed in  general  propositions  they  belong  to  no- 
tional apprehension  and  assent. 


"J 2  Real  Assents, 


§  2.  Real  Assents, 

I  HAVE  in  a  measure  anticipated  the  subject  of  Real 
Assent  by  what  I  have  been  saying  about  Notional. 
In  comparison  of  the  directness  and  force  of  the  appre- 
hension, which  we  have  of  an  object,  when  our  assent 
is  to  be  called  real.  Notional  Assent  and  Inference 
seem  to  be  thrown  back  into  one  and  the  same  class 
of  intellectual  acts,  though  the  former  of  the  two  is 
always  an  unconditional  acceptance  of  a  proposition, 
and  the  latter  is  an  acceptance  on  the  condition  of  an 
acceptance  of  its  premisses.  In  Notional  Assent  as 
well  as  in  inferring,  the  mind  contemplates  its  own 
creations  instead  of  things ;  in  Real,  it  is  directed  to- 
wards things,  represented  by  the  impressions  which 
they  have  left  on  the  imagination.  These  images, 
when  assented  to,  have  an  influence  both  on  the  indi- 
vidual and  on  society,  which  mere  notions  cannot 
exert. 

Considering  the  illustrations  which  I  have  already 
given  of  Real  Assent,  I  think  it  best  here  to  confine 
myself  to  some  instances  of  the  change  of  Notional 
Assent  into  Real. 

I.  For  instance  :  boys  at  school  look  like  each  other, 
and  pursue  the  same  studies,  some  of  them  with  great- 
er success  than  others  ;  but  it  will  sometimes  happen, 


Real  Assejits.  "j^ 

that  those  who  acquitted  themselves  but  poorly  in 
class,  when  they  come  into  the  action  of  life,  and  en- 
gage in  some  particular  work,  which  they  have  already 
been  learning  in  its  theory  and  with  little  promise  of 
proficiency,  are  suddenly  found  to  have  what  is  called 
an  eye  for  that  work — an  eye  for  trade  matters,  or  for 
engineering,  or  again  for  literature — which  no  one 
expected  from  them  at  school,  while  they  were  en- 
gaged on  notions.  Minds  of  this  stamp  not  only 
know  the  received  rules  of  their  profession,  but  enter 
into  them,  and  even  anticipate  them,  or  dispense  with 
them,  or  substitute  other  rules  instead.  And  when 
new  questions  are  opened,  and  arguments  are  drawn 
up  on  one  side  and  the  other  in  long  array,  they  with 
a  natural  ease  and  promptness  form  their  views  and 
give  their  decision,  as  if  they  have  no  need  to  reason, 
from  their  clear  apprehension  of  the  lie  and  issue  of 
the  whole  matter  in  dispute,  as  if  it  were  drawn  out 
in  a  map  before  them.  These  are  the  reformers,  sys- 
tematizers,  inventors,  in  various  departments  of 
thought,  speculative  and  practical ;  in  education,  in 
administration,  in  social  and  political  matters,  in  sci- 
ence. Such  men  are  not  infallible  ;  however  great 
their  powers,  they  sometimes  fall  into  great  errors,  in 
their  own  special  department,  while  second-rate  men 
who  go  by  rule  come  to  sound  and  safe  conclusions. 
Images  need  not  be  true ;  but  I  am  illustrating  what 
vividness  of  apprehension  is,  and  what  is  the  strength 
of  belief  consequent  upon  it. 

2.  Again  : — twenty  years  ago,  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton wrote  his  celebrated  letter  on  the  subject  of  the 
national  defences.  His  authority  gave  it  an  immedi- 
ate circulation  among  all  classes  of  the  community ; 


74  Real  Assents. 

none  questioned  what  he  said,  nor  as  if  taking  his 
words  on  faith  merely,  but  as  intellectually  recogniz- 
ing their  truth  ;  yet  few  could  be  said  to  see  or  feel 
that  truth.  His  letter  lay,  so  to  say,  upon  the  pure 
intellect  of  the  national  mind,  and  nothing  for  a  time 
came  of  it.  But  eleven  years  afterwards,  after  his 
death,  the  anger  of  the  French  colonels  with  us,  after 
the  attempt  upon  Louis  Napoleon's  life,  transferred 
its  facts  to  the  charge  of  the  imagination.  Then  forth- 
with the  national  assent  became  in  various  ways  an 
operative  principle,  especially  in  its  promotion  of  the 
volunteer  movement.  The  Duke,  having  a  special 
eye  for  military  matters,  had  realized  the  state  of 
things  from  the  first ;  but  it  took  a  course  of  years  to 
impress  upon  the  public  mind  an  assent  to  his  warn- 
ing deeper  and  more  energetic  than  the  reception  it  is 
accustomed  to  give  to  a  clever  article  in  a  newspaper 
or  a  review. 

3.  And  so  generally:  great  truths,  practical  or 
ethical,  float  on  the  surface  of  society,  admitted  by  all, 
valued  by  few,  exemplifying  the  poet's  adage,  ''  Pro- 
bitas  laudatur  et  alget,"  until  changed  circumstances, 
accident,  or  the  continual  pressure  of  their  advocates, 
force  them  upon  its  attention.  The  iniquity,  for  in- 
stance, of  the  slave-trade  ought  to  have  been  acknow- 
ledged by  all  men  from  the  first;  it  was  acknowledged 
by  many,  but  it  needed  an  organized  agitation,  with 
tracts  and  speeches  innumerable,  so  to  affect  the  im- 
agination of  men  as  to  make  their  acknowledgment 
of  that  iniquitousness  operative. 

In  like  manner,  when  Mr.  Wilberforce,  after  suc- 
ceeding in  the  slave  question,  urged  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  to  use  his  great  influence  in  discounte- 


Real  Assents.  75 

nancing  duelling,  he  could  only  get  from  him  in  an- 
swer, ''A  relic  of  barbarism,  Mr.  Wilberforce;"  as  if 
he  accepted  a  notion  without  realizing  a  fact:  at 
length,  the  growing  intelligence  of  the  community, 
and  the  shock  inflicted  upon  it  by  the  tragical  cir- 
cumstances of  a  particular  duel,  were  fatal  to  that 
barbarism.  The  governing  classes  were  roused  from 
their  dreamy  acquiescence  in  an  abstract  truth,  and 
recognized  the  duty  of  giving  it  practical  expression. 
4.  Let  us  consider,  too,  how  differently  young  and 
old  are  affected  by  the  words  of  some  classic  author, 
such  as  Homer  or  Horace.  Passages,  which  to  a  boy 
are  but  rhetorical  commonplaces,  neither  better  nor 
worse  than  a  hundred  others  which  any  clever  writer 
might  supply,  which  he  gets  by  heart  and  thinks  very 
fine,  and  imitates,  as  he  thinks,  successfully,  in  his 
own  flowing  versification,  at  length  come  home  to 
him,  when  long  years  have  passed,  and  he  has  had 
experience  of  life,  and  pierce  him,  as  if  he  had  never 
before  known  them,  with  their  sad  earnestness  and 
vivid  exactness.  Then  he  comes  to  understand  how 
it  is  that  lines,  the  birth  of  some  chance  morning  or 
evening  at  an  Ionian  festival,  or  among  the  Sabine 
hills,  have  lasted  generation  after  generation,  for 
thousands  of  years,  Avith  a  power  over  the  mind, 
and  a  charm,  which  the  current  literature  of  his  own 
day,  with  all  its  obvious  advantages,  is  utterly  unable 
to  rival.  Perhaps  this  is  the  reason  of  the  mediaeval 
opinion  about  Virgil,  as  if  a  prophet  or  magician ;  his 
single  words  and  phrases,  his  pathetic  half  lines,  giv- 
ing utterance,  as  the  voice  of  Nature  herself,  to  that 
pain  and  weariness,  yet  hope  of  better  things,  which 
is  the  experience  of  her  children  in  every  time. 


']6  Real  Assents. 

5.  And  what  the  experience  of  the  world  effects  for 
the  illustration  of  classical  authors,  that  office  the 
religious  sense,  carefully  cultivated,  fulfils  towards 
Holy  Scripture.  To  the  devout  and  spiritual,  the 
Divine  Word  speaks  of  things,  not  merely  of  notions. 
And,  again,  to  the  disconsolate,  the  tempted,  the  per- 
plexed, the  suffering,  there  comes,  by  means  of  their 
very  trials,  an  enlargement  of  thought,  which  enables 
them  to  see  in  it  what  they  never  saw  before.  Hence- 
forth there  is  to  them  a  reality  in  its  teachings,  which ' 
they  recognize  as  an  argument,  and  the  best  of  argu* 
ments,  for  its  divine  origin.  Hence  the  practice  of 
meditation  on  the  Sacred  Text,  so  highly  thought  of 
by  Catholics.  Reading,  as  we  do,  the  gospels  from 
our  youth  up,  we  are  in  danger  of  becoming  so  fami- 
liar with  them  as  to  be  dead  to  their  force,  and  to  view 
them  as  a  mere  history.  The  purpose,  then,  of  medi- 
tation is  to  realize  them ;  to  make  the  facts  which 
they  relate  stand  out  before  our  minds  as  objects,  such 
as  may  be  appropriated  by  a  faith  as  living  as  the 
imagination  which  apprehends  them. 

It  is  obvious  to  refer  to  the  unworthy  use  made  of 
the  more  solemn  parts  of  the  sacred  volume  by  the 
mere  popular  preacher.  His  very  mode  of  reading, 
whether  warnings  or  prayers,  is  as  if  he  thought  them 
to  be  little  more  than  fine  Avriting,  poetical  in  sense, 
musical  in  sound,  and  worthy  of  inspiration.  The 
most  awful  truths  are  to  him  but  sublime  or  beauti- 
ful conceptions,  and  are  adduced  and  used  by  him,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  for  his  own  purposes,  for 
embellishing  his  style  or  rounding  his  periods.  But 
let  his  heart  at  length  be  ploughed  by  some  keen  grief 
or  deep  anxiety,  and  Scripture  is  a  new  book  to  him. 


Real  Assents.  yj 

This  is  the  change  which  so  often  takes  place  in  what 
is  called  religious  conversion,  and  it  is  a  change  so  far 
simply  for  the  better,  by  whatever  infirmity  or  error 
it  is  in  the  particular  case  accompanied.  And  it  is 
strikingly  suggested  to  us,  to  take  a  saintly  example, 
in  the  confession  of  the  patriarch  Job,  when  he  con- 
trasts his  apprehension  of  the  Almighty  before  and 
after  his  afflictions.  He  says  he  had  indeed  a  true 
apprehension  of  the  Divine  Attributes  before  them  as 
well  as  after ;  but  wdth  the  trial  came  a  great  change 
in  the  character  of  that  apprehension : — "  With  the 
hearing  of  the  ear,"  he  says,  "  I  have  heard  Thee,  but 
now  mine  eye  seeth  Thee ;  therefore  I  reprehend 
myself,  and  do  penance  in  dust  and  ashes." 

Let  these  instances  suffice  of  Real  Assent  in  its 
relation  to  Notional ;  they  lead  me  to  make  three 
remarks  in  further  illustration  of  its  character. 

I.  The  distinctness  of  the  images  which  are  required 
for  real  assent,  is  no  warrant  for  the  existence  of  the 
objects  which  those  images  represent.  A  proposition, 
be  it  ever  so  keenly  apprehended,  may  be  true  or 
may  be  false.  If  we  simply  put  aside  all  inferential 
information,  such  as  is  derived  from  testimony,  from 
general  belief,  from  the  concurrence  of  the  senses, 
from  common  sense,  or  otherwise,  we  have  no  right 
to  consider  a  fact  guaranteed  to  us  by  the  mere 
strength  of  our  mental  impression  of  it.  Hence  the 
proverb,  '' Fronti  nulla  fides."  An  image,  with  the 
characters  of  perfect  veracity  and  faithfulness,  may 
indeed  be  as  a  distinct,  eloquent  object  presented  be- 
fore the  mind  (or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  the  ''  ob- 
jectum    internum,"   or  the    ''subject-object");    but, 


yS  Real  Assents. 

nevertheless,  there  may  be  no  external  reality  in  the 
case,  corresponding  to  it,  in  spite  of  its  impressive- 
ness.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  this 
fallacious  impressiveness  is -the  allusion  which  pos- 
sesses the  minds  of  able  men,  those  especially  who  are 
exercised  in  physical  investigations,  in  favor  of  the 
inviolability  of  the  laws  of  nature.  Philosophers  of 
the  school  of  Hume  discard  the  very  supposition  of 
miracles,  and  scornfully  refuse  to  hear  evidence  in 
their  behalf  in  given  instances,  from  their  intimate 
experience  of  physical  order  and  of  the  ever-recurring 
sequence  of  cause  and  effect.  Their  imagination 
usurps  the  functions  of  reason ;  and  they  cannot 
bring  themselves  even  to  entertain  as  a  notion  (and 
this  is  all  that  they  are  asked  to  do)  a  thought  con- 
trary to  that  vivid  impression  which  the  hourly  sight 
of  uniformity  in  nature  has  so  deeply  fixed  in  their 
minds. 

Yet  it  is  plain,  and  I  shall  take  it  for  granted  here, 
that  wdien  I  assent  to  a  proposition,  I  ought  to  have 
some  more  legitimate  reason  for  doing  so,  than  the 
brilliancy  of  the  image  of  which  that  proposition  is 
the  expression.  That  I  have  no  experience  of  a  thing 
happening  except  in  one  way,  is  a  cause  of  the  inten- 
sity of  my  assent,  if  I  assent,  but  not  the  reason  of  my 
assenting.  In  saying  this,  I  am  not  disposed  to  deny 
the  presence  in  some  men  of  an  idiosyncratic  sagacity, 
which  really  and  rightly  sees  reasons  in.  impressions 
which  common  men  cannot  see,  and  is  secured  from 
the  peril  of  confusing  truth  with  make-belief;  but 
this  is  genius,  and  beyond  rule.  I  grant  too,  of  course, 
that  accidentally  impressiveness  does  in  matter  of 
fact,  as  in  the  instance  which  I  have  been  giving,  con- 


Real  Asse7its.  79 

stitute  the  motive  principle  of  belief;  for  the  mind  is 
ever  exposed  to  the  danger  of  being  carried  away  by 
the  liveliness  of  its  conceptions,  to  the  sacrifice  of 
good  sense  and  conscientious  caution,  and  the  greater 
and  the  more  rare  are  its  gifts,  the  greater  is  the 
risk  of  swerving  from  the  line  of  reason  and  duty  ; 
but  here  I  am  not  speaking  of  transgressions  of  rule 
any  more  than  of  exceptions  to  it,  but  of  the  normal 
constitution  of  our  minds,  and  of  the  natural  and 
rightful  effect  of  acts  of  the  imagination  upon  us,  and 
this  is,  not  to  create  assent,  but  to  intensify  it. 

2.  Next,  Assent,  however  strong,  and  accorded  to 
images  however  vivid,  is  not  therefore  necessarily 
practical.  Strictly  speaking,  it  is  not  imagination 
that  causes  action ;  but  hope  and  fear,  likes  and  dis- 
likes, appetite,  passion,  affection,  the  stirrings  of  sel- 
fishness and  self-love.  What  imagination  does  for  us 
is  to  find  a  means  of  stimulating  those  motive  powers ; 
and  it  does  so  by  providing  a  supply  of  objects  strong 
enough  to  stimulate  them.  The  thought  of  honor, 
glory,  duty,  self-aggrandizement,  gain,  or  on  the 
other  hand  of  Divine  Goodness,  future  reward,  eter- 
nal life,  perseveringly  dwelt  upon,  leads  us  along  a 
course  of  action  corresponding  to  itself,  but  only  in 
case  there  be  that  in  our  minds  which  is  congenial  to 
it.  However,  when  there  is  that  preparation  of  mind, 
the  thought  does  lead  to  the  act.  Hence  it  is  that 
the  fact  of  a  proposition  being  accepted  with  a  real 
assent  is  accidentally  an  earnest  of  that  proposition 
being  carried  out  into  effect,  and  the  imagination  may 
be  said  in  some  sense  to  be  of  a  practical  nature,  inas- 
much as  it  leads  to  practice  indirectly  by  the  action 
of  its  object  upon  the  affections. 


8o  Real  Assents. 

3.  There  is  a  third  remark  suggested  by  the  view 
which  I  have  been  taking  of  real  assents,  viz.  that 
they  are  of  a  personal  character,  each  individual  hav- 
ing his  own,  and  being  known  by  them.  It  is  other- 
wise with  notions  ;  notional  apprehension  is  in  itself 
an  ordinary  act  of  our  common  nature.  All  of  us 
have  the  power  of  abstraction,  and  can  be  taught 
either  to  make  or  to  enter  into  the  same  abstractions ; 
and  thus  to  co-operate  in  the  establishment  of  a  com- 
mon measure  between  mind  and  mind.  And,  though 
for  one  and  all  of  us  to  assent  to  the  same  notions  is  a 
further  step,  as  requiring  the  adoption  of  a  common 
stand-point  of  principle  and  judgment,  yet  this  too 
depends  in  good  measure  on  certain  logical  processes 
of  thought,  with  which  we  are  all  familiar,  and  on 
facts  which  we  all  take  for  granted.  But  we  cannot 
make  sure,  for  ourselves  or  others,  of  real  apprehen- 
sion and  assent,  because  w^e  have  to  secure  first  the 
images  which  are  their  objects,  and  these  are  often 
peculiar  and  special.  They  depend  on  personal  ex- 
perience ;  and  the  experience  of  one  man  is  not  the 
experience  of  another.  Real  assent,  then,  as  the  ex- 
perience which  it  presupposes,  is  an  act  of  the  indi- 
vidual, as  such,  and  thwarts  rather  than  promotes  the 
intercourse  of  man  with  man.  It  shuts  itself  up,  as 
it  were,  in  its  own  home,  or  at  least  it  is  its  own  witness 
and  its  own  standard ;  and,  as  in  the  instances  above 
given,  it  cannot  be  reckoned  on,  anticipated,  ac- 
counted for,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  accident  of  the 
individual. 

I  call  the  characteristics  of  an  individual  accidents, 
in  spite  of  the  universal  reign  of  law,  because  they 
are  severally  the  co-incidents  of  many  laws,  and  there 


Real  Assents.  8i 

are  no  laws  as  yet  discovered  of  such  coincidence.  A 
man  who  is  run  over  on  the  street  and  killed,  in  one 
sense  suffers  according  to  rule  or  law ;  he  was  cross- 
ing, he  was  short-sighted  or  preoccupied  in  mind, 
or  he  was  looking  another  v/ay ;  he  was  deaf,  lame, 
or  flurried  ;  and  the  cab  came  up  at  a  great  pace. 
If  all  this  was  so,  it  v/as  by  a  necessity  that  he  was 
run  over ;  it  would  have  been  a  miracle  if  he  had 
escaped.  So  far  is  clear ;  but  what  is  not  clear  is  how 
all  these  various  conditions  met  together  in  the  par- 
ticular case,  how  it  was  that  a  man,  short-sighted, 
hard  of  hearing,  deficient  in  presence  of  mind,  hap- 
pened to  get  in  the  way  of  a  cab  hurrying  along  to 
catch  a  train.  This  concrete  fact  does  not  come  under 
any  law  of  sudden  deaths,  but,  like  the  earth's  yearty 
path  which  I  spoke  of  above,  is  the  accident  of  the 
individual. 

It  does  not  meet  the  case  to  refer  to  the  law  of 
averages,  for  such  laws  deal  with  percentages,  not 
with  individuals,  and  it  is  about  individuals  that  I  am 
speaking.  That  this  particular  man  out  of  the  three 
millions  congregated  in  the  metropolis,  was  to  have 
the  experience  of  this  catasti^ophe,  and  to  be  the  select 
victim  to  appease  that  law  of  averages,  no  statistical 
tables  could  foretell,  even  though  they  could  deter- 
mine that  it  was  in  the  fates  that  in  that  week  or  day 
some  four  persons  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  Lon- 
don should  be  run  over.  And  in  like  manner  that 
this  or  that  person  should  have  the  particular  experi- 
ences necessary  for  real  assent  on  any  point,  that  the 
Deist  should  becon:ie  a  Theist,  the  Erastian  a  Catho- 
lic, the  Protectionist  a  Free-trader,  the  Conservative 
a  Legitimist,  the  high   Tory  an  out-and-out  Demo- 


82  Real  Assents, 

crat,  are  facts,  each  of  which  may  be  the  result  of  a 
multitude  of  coincidences  in  one  and  the  same  indi- 
vidual, coincidenc-es  which  we  have  no  means  of  de- 
termining-, and  which,  therefore,  we  may  call  acci- 
dents.    For — 

"There's  a  Divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough  hew  them  how  we  will." 

Such  accidents  are  the  characteristics  of  persons,  as 
differenticB  and  properties  are  the  characteristics  of 
species  or  natures. 

That  a  man  dies  when  deprived  of  air,  is  not  an 
accident  of  his  person,  but  a  law  of  his  nature ;  that 
he  cannot  live  without  quinine  or  opium,  or  out  of 
the  climate  of  Madeira,  is  his  own  peculiarity.  If  all 
men  every  where  usually  had  the  yellow  fever  once 
in  their  lives,  we  should  call  it  (speaking  according 
to  our  know^ledge)  a  law  of  the  human  constitution ; 
if  the  inhabitants  of  a  particular  country  commonly 
had  it,  we  should  call  it  a  law  of  the  climate;  if  a 
healthy  man  has  a  fever  in  a  healthy  place,  in  a 
healthy  season,  we  call  it  an  accident,  though  it  be 
reducible  to  the  coincidence  of  laws,  because  there  is 
no  known  law  of  their  coincidence.  To  be  rational, 
to  have  speech,  to  pass  through  successive  changes 
of  mind  and  body  from  infancy  to  death,  belong  to 
man's  nature;  to  have  a  particular  history,  to  be 
married  or  single,  to  have  children  or  to  be  childless,  to 
live  a  given  number  of  years,  to  have  a  certain  con- 
stitution, moral  temperament,  intellectual  outfit,  men- 
tal formation,  these  and  the  like,  taken  all  together, 
are  the  accidents  which  make  up  our   notion  of  a 


Real  Assents.  Z^^ 

man's  person,  and  are  the  ground-work  or  condition 
of  his  particular  experiences. 

Moreover,  various  of  the  experiences  which  befall 
this  man  may  be  the  same  as  those  which  befall  that, 
though  resulting  each  from  the  combination  of  its 
own  accidents,  and  ultimately  traceable  to  its  own 
special  condition  or  history.  That  is,  common  im- 
ages, with  their  apprehensions  and  assents,  may 
nevertheless  be  personal  characteristics.  If  two  or 
three  hundred  men  are  to  be  found,  who  cannot  live 
out  of  Madeira,  that  inability  would  still  be  an  acci- 
dent and  a  peculiarity  of  each  of  them.  Even  if  in 
each  case  it  implied  delicacy  of  lungs,  still  that  deli- 
cacy is  a  vague  notion,  comprehending  under  it  a 
great  variety  of  cases  in  detail.  If  ''five  hundred 
brethren  at  once"  saw  our  risen  Lord,  that  common 
experience  would  not  be  a  law,  but  a  personal  acci- 
dent which  was  the  prerogative  of  each.  And  so 
again  in  this  day  the  belief  of  so  many  thousands  in 
His  Divinity,  is  not  therefore  notional,  because  it  is 
common,  but  may  be  a  real  and  personal  belief,  being 
produced  in  different  individual  minds  by  various 
experiences  and  disposing  causes,  variously  combin- 
ed ;  such  as  a  warm  or  strong  imagination,  great 
sensibility,  compunction  and  horror  at  sin,  frequent- 
ing the  Mass  and  other  rites  of  the  Church,  meditat- 
ing on  the  contents  of  the  Gospels,  familiarity  with 
hymns  and  religious  poems,  dwelling  on  the  Evi- 
dences, parental  example  and  instruction,  religious 
friends,  strange  providences,  powerful  preaching. 
In  each  case  the  image  in  the  mind,  with  the  experi- 
ences out  of  which  it  is  formed,  would  be  a  personal 
result;  and,  though  the  same  in  all,  would  in  each 


84  Real  Assents, 

case  be  so  idiosyncratic  in  its  circumstances,  that  it 
would  stand  by  itself,  a  special  formation,  unconnect- 
ed with  any  law;  though  at  the  same  time  it  would 
necessarily  be  a  principle  of  sympathy  and  a  bond  of 
intercourse  between  those  whose  minds  had  been 
thus  variously  wrought  into  a  common  assent,  far 
stronger  than  could  be  effected  by  any  multitude  of 
notions  which  they  unanimously  held.  And  even 
when  that  assent  is  not  the  result  of  concurrent 
causes,  if  such  a  case  is  possible,  but  has  one  single 
origin,  as  the  study  of  Scripture,  careful  teaching,  or 
a  religious  temper,  still  its  presence  argues  a  special 
history,  and  a  personal  formation,  which  an  abstrac- 
tion does  not.  For  an  abstraction  can  be  made  at 
will,  and  may  be  the  work  of  a  moment;  but  the 
moral  experiences  wdiich  perpetuate  themselves  in 
images,  must  be  sought  after  in  order  to  be  found, 
and  encouraged  and  cultivated  in  order  to  be  appro- 
priated. 

I  have  now  said  all  that  occurs  to  me  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Real  Assents,  perhaps  not  without  some  risk 
of  subtlety  and  minuteness.  They  are  sometimes 
called  beliefs,  convictions,  certainties ;  and,  as  given 
to  moral  objects,  they  are  perhaps  as  rare  as  they  are 
powerful.  Till  vf  e  have  them,  in  spite  of  a  full  appre- 
hension and  assent  in  the  field  of  notions,  we  have  no 
intellectual  moorings,  and  are  at  the  mercy  of  im- 
pulses, fancies,  and  wandering  lights,  whether  as  re- 
gards personal  conduct,  social  and  political  action,  or 
religion.  These  beliefs,  be  they  true  or  false  in  the 
particular  case,  form  the  mind  out  of  which  they  grow, 
and  impart  to  it  a  seriousness  and  manliness  which 


Real  Assents,  85 

inspires  in  other  minds  a  confidence  in  its  views,  and 
is  one  secret  of  persuasiveness  and  influence  in  the 
pubhc  stage  of  the  world.  They  create,  as  the  case 
may  be,  heroes  and  saints,  great  leaders,  statesmen, 
preachers,  and  reformers,  the  pioneers  of  discovery 
in  science,  visionaries,  fanatics,  knight-errants,  dema- 
gogues, and  adventurers.  They  have  given  to  the 
world  men  of  one  idea,  of  immense  energy,  of  ada- 
mantine will,  of  revolutionary  power.  They  kindle 
sympathies  between  man  and  man,  and  knit  together 
the  innumerable  units  which  constitute  a  race  and  a 
nation.  They  become  the  principle  of  its  political 
existence ;  they  impart  to  it  homogeneity  of  thought 
and  fellowship  of  purpose.  They  have  given  form 
to  the  medieval  theocracy  and  to  the  Mahometan 
superstition ;  they  are  now  the  life  both  of  "  Holy 
Russia,"  and  of  that  freedom  of  speech  and  action 
which  is  the  special  boast  of  Englishmen. 


86  Real  Assents  in  Contrast  with 


§  3.  Real  Assents  in  Contrast  with  Notional  Assents 
AND  Inferences. 

It  appears  from  what  has  been  said,  that,  though 
Real  Assent  is  not  intrinsically  operative,  it  accident- 
ally and  indirectly  affects  practice.  It  is  in  itself  an 
intellectual  act,  of  which  the  object  is  presented  to  it 
by  the  imagination  ;  and  though  the  pure  intellect 
does  not  lead  to  action,  nor  the  imagination  either, 
yet  the  imagination  has  the  means,  which  pure  intel- 
lect has  not,  of  stimulating  those  powers  of  the  mind 
from  which  action  proceeds.  Real  Assent  then,  or 
Belief,  as  it  may  be  called,  viewed  in  itself,  that  is, 
simply  as  Assent,  does  not  lead  to  action  ;  but  the 
images  in  which  it  lives,  representing  as  they  do  the 
concrete,  have  the  power  of  the  concrete  upon  the 
aftections  and  passions,  and  by  means  of  these  in- 
directly become  operative.  Still  this  practical  influ- 
ence is  not  invariable,  nor  to  be  relied  on ;  for,  in  a 
particular  case,  given  images  may  have  no  tendency 
to  affect  given  minds,  or  to  excite  them  to  action. 
Thus,  a  philosopher  or  a  poet  may  vividly  realize  the 
brilliant  rewards  of  military  genius  or  of  eloquence, 
without  wishing  either  to  be  a  commander  or  an 
orator.  However,  on  the  whole,  broadly  contrasting 
Belief  with  Notional  Assent  and  with  Inference,  we 
shall  not  be  very  wrong,  with  this  explanation,  in 


Notio7ial  Assents  and  Infercjices.  ^j 

pronouncing  that  acts  of  Notional  Assent  and  of  In- 
ference do  not  affect  our  conduct,  and  acts  of  Belief, 
that  is,  of  Real  Assent,  do  (not  necessarily,  but  do) 
affect  it. 

I  have  scarcely  spoken  of  Inference  since  my  In- 
troductory Chapter,  though  I  intend,  before  I  con- 
clude, to  consider  it  fully  ;  but  I  have  said  enough  to 
introduce  it  here  in  contrast  with  Real  Assent  or 
Belief,  and  that  contrast  is  necessary  to  complete  what 
I  have  been  saying  about  the  latter.  Let  me  then, 
for  the  sake  of  the  latter,  be  allowed  here  to  say,  that, 
while  Assent,  or  Behef,  presupposes  some  apprehen- 
sion of  the  things  believed,  Inference  requires  no 
apprehension  of  the  things  inferred  ;  that  in  conse- 
quence. Inference  is  necessarily  concerned  with  sur- 
faces and  aspects;  that  it  begins  with  itself,  and 
ends  with  itself;  that  it  does  not  reach  as  far  as 
facts  ;  that  it  is  employed  upon  formulas  ;  that,  as  far 
as  it  takes  real  objects  of  whatever  kind  into  account, 
such  as  motives  and  actions,  character  and  conduct, 
art,  science,  taste,  morals,  religion,  it  deals  with  them, 
not  as  they  are,  but  simply  in  its  own  line,  as  mate- 
rials of  argument  or  enquiry,  that  they  are  to  it 
nothing  more  than  major  and  minor  premisses  and 
conclusions.  Belief,  on  the  other  hand,  being  con- 
cerned with  things  concrete,  not  abstract,  which 
variously  excite  the  mind  from  their  moral  and  ima- 
ginative properties,  has  for  its  object,  not  only 
directly  what  is  true,  but  inclusively  what  is  beauti- 
ful, useful,  admirable,  heroic;  objects  which  kindle 
devotion,  rouse  the  passions,  and  attach  the  affec- 
tions ;  and  thus  it  leads  the  way  to  actions  of  every 
kind,  to  the  establishment  of  principles,  and  the  for- 


88  Real  Assents  iji  Co?itrast  with 

mation   of  character,  and   i-s   thus  again  intimately 
connected  with  what  is  individual  and  personal. 

I  insisted  on  this  marked  distinction  between 
Beliefs  on  the  one  hand,  and  Notional  Assents  and 
Inferences  on  the  other,  many  years  ago  in  words 
which  it  Aviil  be  to  my  purpose  to  use  now.  I  quote 
them,  because,  over  and  above  their  appositeness  in 
this  place,  they  present  the  doctrine  which  I  have 
been  enforcing,  from  a  second  point  of  view,  and  with 
a  freshness  and  force  wl^ch  I  cannot  now  command, 
and,  moreover  (though  they  are  my  own,  neverthe- 
less, from  the  length  of  time -which  has  elapsed  since 
their  publication),  almost  with  the  cogency  of  an 
independent  testimony. 

They  occur  in  a  protest  which  I  Avas  asked  to 
\YY\tQ  in  February,  1841,  in  the  form  of  letters  ad- 
dressed to  the  Editor  of  the  Times  Newspaper,  against 
a  dangerous  doctrine  maintained,  as  I  considered,  by 
two  very  eminent  men  of  that  day,  now  no  more — 
Lord  Brougham  and  Sir  Robert  Peel.  That  doctrine 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  claims  of  religion  could  be 
secured  and  sustained  in  the  mass  of  men,  and  in  par- 
ticular in  the  lower  classes  of  society,  by  acquaintance 
U' ith  literature  and  physical  science,  and  that,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  Mechanics'  Institutes  and 
Reading-Rooms,  to  the  serious  disparagement,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  of  direct  Christian  instruction.  In  one 
Df  these  letters  is  found  the  passage  which  follows, 
md  which,  with  whatever  differences  in  terminology, 
md  hardihood  of  assertion,  befittins:  the  circum- 
stances  of  its  publication,  nay,  as  far  as  words  go, 
inaccuracy  of  theological   statement,   suitably  illus- 


Notional  Assents  and  Inferences,  89 

trates  the  subject  here  under  discussion.  It  runs 
thus : 

''  People  say  to  me,  that  it  is  but  a  dream  to  sup- 
pose that  Christianity  should  regain  the  organic  power 
in  human  society  which  once  it  possessed.  I  cannot 
help  that ;  I  never  said  it  could.  I  am  not  a  politi- 
cian ;  I  am  proposing  no  measures,  but  exposing  a 
fallacy  and  resisting  a  pretence.  Let  Benthamism 
reign,  if  men  have  no  aspirations ;  but  do  not  tell  them 
to  be  romantic  and  then  solace  them  with  '  glory ;'  do 
not  attempt  by  philosophy  what  once  was  done  by 
religion.  The  ascendency  of  faith  may  be  impracti- 
cable, but  the  reign  of  knowledge  is  impossible.  The 
problem  for  statesmen  of  this  age  is  how  to  educate 
the  masses,  and  literature  and  science  cannot  give  the 
solution. 

'■'■  Science  gives  us  the  grounds  or  premisses  from 
which  religious  truths  are  to  be  enforced  ;  but  it  does 
not  set  about  inferring,  much  less  does  it  reach  the  in- 
ference— that  is  not  its  proyince.  It  brings  before  us 
phenomena,  and  it  leaves  us,  if  we  will,  to  call  them 
works  of  design,  wisdom,  or  benevolence  ;  and  further 
still,  if  wc  will,  to  proceed  to  confess  an  Intelligent 
Creator.  We  have  to  take  its  facts,  and  to  give  them 
a  meaning,  and  to  draw  our  conclusions  from  them. 
First  comes  knowledge,  then  a  view,  then  reasoning, 
and  then  belief.  This  is  why  science  has  so  little  of  a 
religious  tendency  ;  deductions  have  no  power  of  per- 
suasion. The  heart  is  commonly  reached,  not  through 
the  reason,  but  through  the  imagination,  by  means  of 
direct  impressions,  by  the  testimony  of  facts  and 
events,  by  history,  by  description.  Persons  influence 
us,  voices  melt  us,  looks  subdue  us,  deeds  inflame  us. 


^o  Real  Assents  in  Contrast  with 

Many  a  man  will  live  and  die  upon  a  dogma :  no  man 
ivill  be  a  martj^r  for  a  conclusion.  A  conclusion  is 
Dut  an  opinion ;  it  is  not  a  thing-  which  is,  but  which 
we  are  '  certain  about  /  and  it  has  often  been  observed, 
:hat  we  never  say  we  are  certain  w^ithout  implying 
:hat  we  doubt.  To  say  that  a  thing  imcst  be,  is  to 
idmit  that  it  viay  not  be.  No  one,  I  say,  will  die  for 
lis  own  calculations :  he  dies  for  realities.  This  is 
^vhy  a  literary  religion  is  so  little  to  be  depended 
upon ;  it  looks  well  in  fair  weather  ;  but  its  doctrines 
ire  opinions,  and  when  called  to  suffer  for  them  it  slips 
them  between  its  folios,  or  burns  them  at  its  hearth. 
And  this  again  is  the  secret  of  the  distrust  and  rail- 
iery  with  which  moralists  have  been  so  commonly 
v^isited.  They  say  and  do  not.  Wli}-?  Because  they 
irc  contemplating  the  fitness  of  things,  and  they  live 
by  the  square,  when  they  should  be  realizing  their 
[ligh  maxims  in  the  concrete.  Now  Sir  Robert  Peel 
thinks  better  of  natural  history,  chemistrj^,  and  astro- 
nomy than  of  such  ethics  ;  but  these  too,  what  are 
they  more  than  divinity  in  posse  ?  He  protests  against 
'controversial  divinity:'  is  inferential  mwch  better? 

"  I  have  no  confidence,  then,  in  philosophers  who  can- 
not help  being  religious,  and  are  Christians  by  impli- 
cation. They  sit  at  home,  and  reach  forward  to 
distances  which  astonish  us;  but  they  hit  without 
grasping,  and  are  sometimes  as  confident  about  sha- 
dows as  about  realities.  They  have  worked  out  by  a 
calculation  the  lie  of  a  country  which  they  never  saw, 
and  mapped  it  by  means  of  a  gazetteer;  and,  like 
blind  men,  though  they  can  put  a  stranger  on  his  way, 
they  cannot  walk  straight  themselves,  and  do  not  feel 
it  quite  their  business  at  all. 


Notional  Assents  and  Inferences.  91 

"  Logic  makes  but  a  sorry  rhetoric  with  the  multi- 
tude ;  first  shoot  round  corners,  and  you  may  not 
despair  of  converting  by  a  syllogism.  Tell  men  to 
gain  notions  of  a  Creator  from  His  works,  and,  if  they 
were  to  set  about  it  (which  nobody  does)  they  would 
be  jaded  and  wearied  by  the  labyrinth  they  were  trac- 
ing. Their  minds  would  be  gorged  and  surfeited  by 
the  logical  operation.  Logicians  are  more  set  upon 
concluding  rightly,  than  on  drawing  right  conclusions. 
They  cannot  see  the  end  for  the  process.  Few  men 
have  that  power  of  mind  which  may  hold  fast  and 
firmly  a  variety  of  thoughts.  We  ridicule  'men  of 
one  idea;'  but  a  great  many  of  us  are  born  to  be 
such,  and  we  should  be  happier  if  we  knew  it.  To 
most  men  argument  makes  the  point  in  hand  only 
more  doubtful,  and  considerably  less  impressive. 
After  all,  man  is  not  a  reasoning  animal ;  he  is  a  see- 
ing, feeling,  contemplating,  acting  animal.  He  is 
influenced  by  what  is  direct  and  precise.  It  is  very 
well  to  freshen  our  impressions  and  convictions  from 
physics,  but  to  create  them  v/e  must  go  elsewhere. 
Sir  Robert  Peel  *  never  can  think  it  possible  that  a 
mind  can  be  so  constituted,  that,  after  being  familiar- 
ized with  the  wonderful  discoveries  which  have  been 
made  in  every  part  of  experimental  science,  it  can 
retire  from  such  contemplation  without  more  enlarged 
conceptions  of  God's  providence,  and  a  higher  rever- 
ence for  His  Name  ! '  If  he  speaks  of  religious  minds, 
he  perpetrates  a  truism  ;  if  of  irreligious,  he  insinu- 
ates a  paradox. 

"  Life  is  not  long  enough  for  a  religion  of  inferences ; 
we  shall  never  have  done  beginning,  if  we  determine 
to  begin  with  proof.     We  shall  ever  be  laying  our 


92  Real  Assents  in   Contrast  with 

foundations  ;  we  shall  turn  theology  into  evidences, 
and  divines  into  textuaries.  We  shall  never  get  at 
our  first  principles.  Resolve  to  believe  nothing,  and 
you  must  prove  your  proof  and  analyze  your  ele- 
ments, sinking  farther  and  farther,  and  finding  *  in  the 
lowest  depth  a  lower  deep,'  till  you  come  to  the 
broad  bosom  of  scepticism.  I  would  rather  be  bound 
to  defend  the  reasonableness  of  assuming  that  Chris- 
tianity is  true,  than  to  prove  a  moral  governance  from 
the  physical  world.  Life  is  for  action.  If  we  insist 
on  proof  for  every  thing,  we  shall  never  come  to 
action  :  to  act  3^ou  must  assume,  and  that  assumption 
is  faith. 

''  Let  no  one  suppose,  that  in  saying  this  I  am 
maintaining  that  all  proofs  are  equally  difficult,  and 
all  propositions  equally  debatable.  Some  assump- 
tions are  greater  than  others,  and  some  doctrines  in- 
volve postulates  larger  than  others,  and  more  numer- 
ous. I  only  say,  that  impressions  lead  to  action,  and 
that  reasonings  lead  from  it.  Knowledge  of  premisses, 
and  inferences  upon  them, — this  is  not  to  live.  It  is 
very  well  as  a  matter  of  liberal  curiosity  and  of  phil- 
osophy to  analyze  our  modes  of  thought :  but  let  this 
come  second,  and  when  there  is  leisure  for  it,  and  then 
our  examinations  will  in  many  ways  even  be  subser- 
vient to  action.  But  if  we  commence  with  scientific 
knowledge  and  argumentative  proof,  or  lay  any  great 
stress  upon  it  as  the  basis  of  personal  Christianity,  or 
attempt  to  make  man  moral  and  religious  by  libraries 
and  museums,  let  us  in  consistency  take  chemists  for 
our  cooks,  and  mineralogists  for  our  masons. 

''  Now  I  wish  to  state  all  this  as  matter  of  fact,  to 
be  judged  by  the  candid  testimony  of  any  persons 


Notional  Assents  and  Inferences.  93 

whatever.  Why  we  are  so  constituted  that  faith, 
not  knowledge  or  argument,  is  our  principle  of 
action,  is  a  question  with  which  I  have  nothing  to  do  ; 
but  I  think  it  is  a  fact,  and,  if  it  be  such,  we  must  re- 
sign ourselves  to  it  as  best  we  may,  unless  we  take 
refuge  in  the  intolerable  paradox,  that  the  mass  of 
men  are  created  for  nothing,  and  are  meant  to  leave 
life  as  they  entered  it. 

"  So  well  has  this  practically  been  understood  in  all 
ages  of  the  world,  that  no  religion  yet  has  been  a 
religion  of  physics  or  of  philosophy.  It  has  ever  been 
synonymous  with  revelation.  It  never  has  been  a 
deduction  from  what  we  know ;  it  has  ever  been  an 
assertion  of  what  we  are  to  believe.  It  has  never 
lived  in  a  conclusion ;  it  has  ever  been  a  message,  a 
history,  or  a  vision.  No  legislator  or  priest  ever 
dreamed  of  educating  our  moral  nature  by  science  or 
by  argument.  There  is  no  difference  here  between 
true  religions  and  pretended.  Moses  was  instructed 
not  to  reason  from  the  creation,  but  to  work  miracles. 
Christianity  is  a  history  supernatural,  and  almost 
scenic:  it  tells  us  what  its  Author  is,  by  telling  us 
what  He  has  done. 

"  Lord  Brougham  himself  has  recognized  the  force 
of  this  principle.  He  has  not  left  his  philosophical 
religion  to  argument;  he  has  committed  it  to  the 
keeping  of  the  imagination.  Why  should  he  depict 
a  great  republic  of  letters,  and  an  intellectual  pan- 
theon, but  that  he  feels  instances  and  patterns  to  be 
the  living  conclusions  which  alone  have  a  hold  over 
the  affections  or  can  form  the  character?""^ 

*  "  The  Tamworth  Reading  Room,"  by  Catholicus,  pp.  32-36. 


CHAPTER  V. 

RELIGIOUS  ASSENTS. 

We  are  now  able  to  determine  what  a  dogma  of  faith 
is,  and  what  it  is  to  beheve  it.  A  dogma  is  a  proposi- 
tion ;  it  stands  for  a  notion  or  for  a  thing  ;  and  to  be- 
Heve  it  is  to  give  the  assent  of  the  mind  to  it,  as  standing 
for  one  or  for  the  other.  To  give  a  real  assent  to  it  is 
an  act  of  religion  ;  to  give  a  notional,  is  a  theological 
act.  It  is  discerned,  rested  in,  and  appropriated  as  a 
reality,  by  the  religious  imagination ;  it  is  held  as  a 
truth,  by  the  theological  intellect. 

Not  as  if  there  were  in  fact,  or  could  be,  any  line  of 
demarcation  or  party-wall  between  these  two  modes 
of  assent,  the  religious  and  the  theological.  As  intel- 
lect is  common  to  all  men  as  well  as  imagination, 
every  religious  man  is  to  a  certain  extent  a  theologian, 
and  no  theology  can  start  or  thrive  without  the  initi- 
ative and  abiding  presence  of  religion.  As  in  matters 
of  this  world,  sense,  sensation,  instinct,  intuition,  sup- 
ply us  with  facts,  and  the  intellect  uses  them ;  so,  as 
regards  our  relations  with  the  Supreme  Being,  we 
receive  our  facts  from  the  witness,  first  of  nature,  then 
of  revelation,  and  our  doctrines,  in  which  they  issue, 
through  the  exercise  of   abstraction  and  inference. 


Religious  Assents.  95 

This  is  obvious  ;  but  it  does  not  interfere  with  holding 
that  there  is  a  theological  habit  of  mind,  and  a  relig- 
ious, each  distinct  from  each,  religion  using  theology, 
and  theology  using  religion.  This  being  understood, 
I  propose  to  consider  the  dogmas  of  the  Being  of  a 
God,  and  of  the  Divine  Trinity  in  Unity,  in  their  rela- 
tion to  assent,  both  notional  and  real,  and  principally 
to  real  assent ; — but  I  have  not  yet  finished  all  I  have 
to  say  by  way  of  introduction. 

Now  first,  my  subject  is  assent,  and  not  inference. 
I  am  not  proposing  to  set  forth  the  arguments  which 
issue  in  the  belief  of  these  doctrines,  but  to  investigate 
what  it  is  to  believe  in  them,  what  the  mind  does, 
Avhat  it  contemplates,  when  it  makes  an  act  of  faith. 
It  is  true  that  the  same  elementary  facts  which  create 
an  object  for  an  assent,  also  furnish  matter  for  an  in- 
ference :  and  in  showing  what  we  believe,  I  shall  in  a 
measure  be  unavoidably  showing  why  we  believe ; 
but  this  is  the  very  reason  that  makes  it  necessary  for 
me  at  the  outset  to  insist  on  the  real  distinction  be- 
tween these  two  concurring  and  coincident  courses 
of  thought,  and  to  premise  by  way  of  caution,  lest  I 
should  be  misunderstood,  that  I  am  not  considering 
the  question  that  there  is  a  God,  but  rather  what 
God  is. 

And  secondly,  I  mean  by  belief,  not  simply  faith, 
because  faith,  in  its  theological  sense,  includes  a  belief, 
not  only  in  the  thing  believed,  but  also  in  the  ground 
of  believing ;  that  is,  not  only  belief  in  certain  doc- 
trines, but  belief  in  them  expressly  because  God  has 
revealed  them  ;  but  here  I  am  engaged  only  with 
what  is  called  the  material  object  of  faith,  not  with  the 
formal,  but  with  the  thing  believed.     The  Almighty 


96  Religious  Assents, 

witnesses  to  Himself  in  Revelation ;  Ave  believe  that 
he  is  One  and  that  He  is  Three,  because  He  says  so. 
We  believe  also  what  He  tells  us  about  His  Attri- 
butes, His  providences  and  dispensations.  His  deter- 
minations and  acts,  what  He  has  done  and  what  He 
will  do.  And  if  all  this  is  too  much  for  us,  whether 
to  bring  before  our  minds  at  one  time  from  its  variety, 
or  even  to  apprehend  at  all  or  enunciate  from  our  nar- 
rowness of  intellect  or  want  of  learning,  then  at  least 
Ave  belicA^e  in  globo  all  that  He  has  revealed  to  us 
about  Himself,  and  that,  because  He  has  re\^ealed  it. 
HoAvever,  this  ''  because  He  says  it"  does  not  enter 
into  the  scope  of  the  present  inquiry,  but  only  the 
truths  themselves,  and  these  particular  truths,  "  He  is 
One,"  ''  He  is  Three  ;"  and  of  these  tAVO,  both  of 
Avhich  are  revealed,  I  shall  consider  "  He  is  One," 
not  as  a  truth  in  Revelation,  but  as,  Avhat  it  is  also,  a 
natural  truth,  the  foundation  of  all  religion.  And 
Avith  it  I  begin. 


Belief  in  One  God.  97 


§  I.  Belief  in  One  God. 

There  is  one  God,  such  and  such  in  Nature  and 
Attributes. 

I  say  "  such  and  such,"  for,  unless  I  explain  what  I 
mean  by  '^  one  God,"  I  use  words  which  may  mean 
any  thing  or  nothing.  I  may  mean  a  mere  anwia 
mundi ;  or  an  initial  principle  which  once  was  in  action 
and  now  is  not ;  or  collective  humanity.  I  speak 
then  of  the  God  of  the  Theist  and  of  the  Christian : 
a  God  who  is  numerically  One,  who  is  Personal ;  the 
Author,  Sustainer,  and  Finisher  of  all  things,  the  Liie 
of  Law  and  Order,  the  moral  Governor ;  One  who  is 
Supreme  and  Sole ;  like  Himself,  unlike  all  things 
besides  Himself,  which  all  are  but  His  creatures ; 
distinct  from,  independent  of  them  all :  One  who 
is  self-existing,  absolutely  infinite,  who  has  ever 
been  and  ever  will  be,  to  whom  nothing  is  past 
or  future ;  who  is  all  perfection,  and  the  fulness 
and  archetype  of  every  possible  excellence,  the  Truth 
Itself,  Wisdom,  Love,  Justice,  Holiness ;  One  who  is 
All-powerful,  All-knowing,  Omnipresent,  Incompre- 
hensible. These  are  some  of  the  distinctive  preroga- 
tives which  I  ascribe  unconditionally  and  unreser- 
vedly to  the  great  Being  whom  I  call  God. 

This  being  what  Theists  mean  when  they  speak  of 


9 8  Religions  Assents. 

God,  their  assent  to  this  truth  admits  without  diffi- 
culty of  being  what  I  have  called  a  notional  assent. 
It  is  an  assent  following  upon  acts  of  inference,  and 
other  purely  intellectual  exercises  ;  and  it  is  an  assent 
to  a  large  development  of  predicates,  correlative  to 
each  other,  or  at  least  intimately  connected  together, 
drawn  out  as  if  on  paper,  as  we  might  map  a  country 
which  we  had  never  seen,  or  construct  mathematical 
tables,  or  mxaster  the  methods  of  discovery  of  Newton 
or  Davy,  without  being  astronomers,  mathematicians, 
or  chemists  ourselves. 

So  far  is  clear;  but  the  question  follows.  Can  I  at- 
tain to  any  more  vivid  assent  to  the  Being  of  a  God, 
than  that  wdiich  is  given  merely  to  notions  of  the 
intellect*?  Can  I  enter  v/ith  a  personal  knowledge 
into  the  circle  of  truths  which  make  up  that  great 
thought  ?  Can  I  rise  to  what  I  have  called  an  imagi- 
native apprehension  of  it  ?  Can  I  believe  as  if  I  saw  ? 
Since  such  a  high  assent  requires  a  present  experi- 
ence or  memory  of  the  fact,  at  first  sight  it  would 
seem  as  if  the  answer  must  be  in  the  negative ;  for 
how  can  I  assent  as  if  I  saw,  unless  I  have  seen  ?  but 
no  one  in  this  life  can  see  God.  Yet  I  conceive  a 
real  assent  is  possible,  and  I  proceed  to  show  how. 

*When  it  is  said  that  we  cannot  see  God,  this  is  un- 
deniable ;  but  in  what  sense  have  w^e  a  discernment 
of  His  creatures,  of  the  individual  beings  which  sur- 
round us?  The  evidence  which  we  have  of  their 
presence  lies  in  the  phenomena  which  address  our 
senses,  and  our  warrant  for  taking  these  for  evidence 
is  our  instinctive  certitude  that  they  are  evidence. 
By  the  law  of  our  nature  we  associate  those  sensible 
phenomena  or  impressions  with  certain  units,  indi- 


Belief  in  One  God.  99 

viduals,  substances,  whatever  they  are  to  be  called, 
which  are  outside  and  out  of  the  reach  of  sense,  and 
we  picture  them  to  ourselves  in  those  phenomena. 
The  phenomena  are  as  if  pictures ;  but  at  the  same 
time  they  give  us  no  exact  measure  or  character  of 
the  unknown  things  beyond  them  ;  — for  who  will  say 
there  is  any  uniformity  between  the  impressions 
which  two  of  us  would  respectively  have  of  some 
third  thing,  supposing  one  of  us  had  only  the  sense 
of  touch,  and  the  other  only  the  sense  of  hearing? 
Therefore,  when  we  speak  of  our  having  a  picture  of 
the  things  which  are  perceived  through  the  senses, 
we  mean  a  certain  representation,  true  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  not  adequate. 

And  so  of  those  intellectual  objects  which  are 
brought  home  to  us  through  our  senses : — that  they 
exist,  vv^e  know  by  instinct ;  that  they  are  such  and 
such,  we  apprehend  from  the  impressions  which  they 
leave  upon  our  minds.  Thus  the  life  and  writings  of 
Cicero  or  Dr.  Johnson,  of  St.  Jerome  or  St.  Chrysos- 
tom,  leave  upon  us  certain  impressions  of  the  intellec- 
tual and  moral  character  of  each  of  them,  sui generis, 
and  unmistakable.  We  take  up  a  passage  of  Chrysos- 
tom  or  a  passage  of  Jei^ome ;  there  is  no  possibility 
of  confusing  the  one  with  the  other  ;  in  each  case  we 
see  the  man  in  his  language.  And  so  of  any  great 
man  whom  we  may  have  known  :  that  he  is  not  a  mere 
impression  on  our  senses,  v\^e  know  by  instinct ;  that 
he  is  such  and  such,  we  know  by  the  matter  or  quality 
of  that  impression. 

Now  certainly  the  thought  of  God,  as  Theists  enter- 
tain it,  is  not  gained  by  an  instinctive  association  of 
His  presence  with  any  sensible  phenomena ;  but  the 


lOO  Religious  Assents. 

office  which  the  senses  directly  fulfil  as  regards  the 
external  world,  that  devolves  indirectly  on  certain  of 
our  mental  phenomena  as  regards  its  Maker.  Those 
phenomena  are  found  in  the  sense  of  moral  obligation. 
As  from  a  multitude  of  instinctive  perceptions,  acting 
in  particular  instances,  of  something  be3^ond  the 
senses,  we  generalize  the  notion  of  an  external  world, 
and  then  picture  that  world  in  and  according  to  those 
particular  phenomena  from  which  we  started,  so 
from  the  perceptive  power  which  identifies  the  inti- 
mations of  conscience  with  the  reverberations  or 
echoes  (so  to  say)  of  an  external  admonition,  we 
proceed  on  to  the  notion  of  a  Supreme  Ruler  and 
Judge,  and  then  again  we  image  Him  and  His  attri- 
butes in  those  recurring  intimations,  out  of  which,  as 
mental  phenomena,  our  recognition  of  His  existence 
was  originally  gained.  And,  if  the  impressions 
which  His  creatures  make  on  us  through  our  senses 
oblige  us  to  regard  those  creatures  as  stii  generis  re- 
spectively, it  is  not  v/onderful  that  the  notices  which 
He  indirectly  gives  us  of  His  ow^n  nature  are  such  as 
to  make  us  understand  that  He  is  like  Himself  and 
like  nothing  else. 

I  have  already  said  I  am  not  proposing  here  to 
prove  the  Being  of  a  God ;  yet  I  have  found  it  im- 
possible to  avoid  saying  where  I  look  for  the  proof  of  it. 
For  I  would  begin  to  prove  it  by  the  same  means  by 
which  I  would  commence  a  proof  of  His  attributes 
and  character ;  by  the  same  means  by  which  I  show 
how  we  apprehend  Him,  not  merely  as  a  notion,  but 
as  a  reality.  The  last  indeed  of  these  three  investi- 
gations alone  concerns  me  here,  but  I  cannot  alto- 
gether exclude  the  two  former  from  my  considera- 


Belief  i7i  One  God.  loi 

tion.  However,  I  repeat,  what  I  am  directly  aiming 
at,  is  to  explain  how  we  gain  an  image  of  God  and 
give  a  real  assent  to  the  proposition  that  He  exists. 
And  next,  in  order  to  do  this,  of  course  I  must  start 
from  some  first  principle ; — and  that  first  principle, 
which  I  assume  and  shall  not  attemipt  to  prove,  is  that 
we  have  naturally  a  conscience. 

I  assume,  then,  that  Conscience  has  a  legitimate 
place  among  our  mental  acts;  as  really  so,  as  the 
action  of  memor}^,  of  reasoning,  of  imagination,  or  as 
the  sense  of  the  beautiful ;  that,  as  there  are  objects 
which,  when  presented  to  the  mind,  cause  it  to  feel 
grief,  regret,  joy,  or  desire,  so  there  are  things  which 
excite  in  us  approbation  or  blame,  and  vvdiich  we  in 
consequence  call  right  or  wrong ;  and  which,  experi- 
enced in  ourselves,  kindle  in  us  that  specific  sense  of 
pleasure  or  pain,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  a  good 
or  bad  conscience.  This  being  taken  for  granted,  I 
shall  attempt  to  show  that  in  this  special  feeling,  which 
follows  on  the  commission  of  what  we  call  right  and 
wrong,  lie  the  materials  for  the  real  apprehension  of  a 
Divine  Sovereign  and  Judge. 

The  feeling  of  conscience  being,  I  repeat,  a  certain 
keen  sensibility,  pleasant  or  painful, — self-approval 
and  hope,  or  compunction  and  fear, — attendant  on 
certain  of  our  actions,  which  in  consequence  we  call 
right  or  vv  rong,  is  twofold : — it  is  a  moral  sense,  and  a 
sense  of  duty  ;  a  judgment  of  the  reason  and  a  magis- 
terial dictate.  Of  course  its  act  is  indivisible ;  still  it 
has  these  two  aspects,  distinct  from  each  other,  and 
admitting  of  a  separate  consideration.  Though  I  lost 
my  sense  of  the  obligation  v/hich  I  lie  under  to  abstain 
from  acts  of  dishonesty,  I  should  not  in  consequence 


I02  Religious  Absents, 

lose  my  sense  that  such  actions  were  an  outrage  offer- 
ed to  my  moral  nature.  Again ;  though  I  lost  my 
sense  of  their  moral  deformity,  I  should  not  therefore 
lose  my  sense  that  they  were  forbidden  to  me.  Thus 
conscience  has  both  a  critical  and  a  judicial  office,  and 
though  its  promptings,  in  the  breasts  of  the  millions 
of  human  beings  to  whom  it  is  given,  are  not  in  all 
cases  correct,  that  does  not  necessarily  interfere  with 
the  force  of  its  testimony  and  of  its  sanction :  its  testi- 
mony that  there  is  a  right  and  a  wrong,  and  its  sanc- 
tion to  that  testimony  conveyed  in  the  feelings  which 
attend  on  right  or  wrong  conduct.  Here  I  have  to 
speak  of  conscience  in  the  latter  point  of  view,  not  as 
supplying  us,  by  means  of  its  various  acts,  with  the 
elements  of  morals,  vvdiich  may  be  developed  by  the 
intellect  into  an  ethical  code,  but  simply  as  the  dictate 
of  an  authoritative  monitor  bearing  upon  the  details 
of  conduct  as  they  come  before  us,  and  complete  in 
its  several  acts,  one  by  one. 

Let  us  thus  consider  conscience,  then,  not  as  a  rule 
of  right  conduct,  but  as  a  sanction  of  right  conduct. 
This  is  its  primary  and  most  authoritative  aspect ;  it 
is  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  Half  the  world 
would  be  puzzled  to  know  what  was  meant  by  the 
moral  sense  ;  but  every  one  knows  what  is  meant  by 
a  sfood  or  bad  conscience.  Conscience  is  ever  fore- 
ing  on  us  by  threats  and  by  promises  that  we  must 
follow  the  right  and  avoid  the  wrong  ;  so  far  it  is  one 
and  the  same  in  the  mind  of  every  one,  whatever  be 
its  particular  errors  in  particular  minds  as  to  the  acts 
which  it  orders  to  be  done  or  to  be  avoided ;  and  in 
this  respect  it  corresponds  to  our  perception  of  the 
beautiful  and   deformed.      As  we   have   naturally  a 


Belief  in  One  God. 


103 


sense  of  the  beautiful  and  graceful  in  nature  and  art, 
though  tastes  proverbially  differ,  so  we  have  a  sense 
of  duty  and  obligation,  whether  we  all  associate  it 
with  the  same  particular  actions  or  not.  Here,  how- 
ever, Taste  and  Conscience  part  company:  for  the 
sense  of  beautifulness,  as  indeed  the  Moral  Sense,  has 
no  special  relations  to  persons,  but  contemplates 
objects  in  themselves ;  conscience,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  concerned  with  persons  primarily,  and  with  actions 
mainly  as  viev/ed  in  their  doers,  or  rather  with  self 
alone  and  one's  own  actions,  and  with  others  only  in- 
directly and  as  if  in  associa,tion  with  self.  And  fur- 
ther, taste  is  its  own  evidence,  appealing  to  nothing 
beyond  its  own  sense  of  the  beautiful  or  the  ugly,  and 
enjoying  the  specimxcns  of  the  beautiful  simply  for 
their  own  sake  ;  but  conscience  does  not  repose  on 
itself,  but  vaguely  reaches  forward  to  something  be- 
3'^ond  self,  and  dimly  discerns  a  sanction  higher  than 
self  for  its  decisions,  as  evidenced  in  that  keen  sense 
of  obligation  and  responsibility  which  informs  them. 
And  hence  it  is  that  we  are  accustomed  to  speak  of 
conscience  as  a  voice, — a  term  which  we  should  never 
think  of  applj'ing  to  the  sense  of  the  beautiful ;  and 
moreover  a  voice,  or  the  echo  of  a  voice,  imperative 
and  constraining,  like  no  other  dictate  in  the  whole 
of  our  experience. 

And  again,  in  consequence  of  this  prerogative  of 
dictating  and  commanding,  which  is  of  its  essence. 
Conscience  has  an  intimate  bearing  on  our  affections 
and  emotions,  leading  us  to  reverence  and  awe,  hope 
and  fear,  especially  fear,  a  feeling  Avhich  is  foreign  for 
the  most  part,  not  only  to  Taste,  but  even  to  the 
Moral  Sense,   except  in    consequence    of  accidental 


I04  Rcligioiis  Assents. 

associations.  No  fear  is  felt  by  any  one  who  recog- 
nizes that  his  conduct  has  not  been  beautiful,  though 
he  may  be  mortified  at  himself,  if  perhaps  he  has 
thereby  forfeited  some  advantage  ;  but,  if  he  has  been 
betrayed  into  any  kind  of  immorality,  he  has  a  lively 
sense  of  responsibility  and  guilt,  though  the  act  be  no 
offence  against  society, — of  distress  and  apprehension, 
even  though  it  may  be  of  present  service  to  him, — of 
compunction  and  regret,  though  in  itself  it  be  most 
pleasurable, — of  confusion  of  face,  though  it  may  have 
no  witnesses.  These  various  perturbations  of  mind, 
which  are  characteristic  of  a  bad  conscience,  and 
may  be  very  considerable, — self-reproach,  poignant 
shame,  haunting  remorse,  chill  dismay  at  the  pros- 
pect of  the  future, — and  their  contraries,  when  the 
conscience  is  good,  as  real  though  less  forcible,  self- 
approval,  inward  peace,  lightness  of  heart,  and  the 
like, — these  emotions  constitute  a  generic  difference 
between  conscience  and  our  other  intellectual  senses, 
— common  sense,  good  sense,  sense  of  expedience, 
taste,  sense  of  honor,  and  the  like, — as  indeed  they 
would  also  create  between  conscience  and  the  moral 
sense,  supposing  these  two  were  not  aspects  of  one 
and  the  same  feeling,  exercised  upon  one  and  the 
same  subject-matter. 

So  much  for  the  characteristic  phenomena,  which 
conscience  presents,  nor  is  it  difficult  to  determine 
what  they  imply.  I  refer  once  more  to  our  sense  of 
the  beautiful.  This  sense  is  attended  by  an  intellec- 
tual enjoyment,  and  is  free  from  whatever  is  of  the 
nature  of  emotion,  except  in  one  case,  viz.  when  it  is 
excited  by  personal  objects ;  then  it  is  that  the  tran- 
quil feeling  of  admiration  is  exchanged  for  the  ex- 


Belief  in  One  God.  105 

citement  of  affection  and  passion.  Conscience,  too, 
considered  as  a  moral  sense,  an  intellectual  sentiment, 
is  a  sense  of  admiration  and  disgust,  of  approbation 
and  blame ;  but  it  is  something  more  than  a  moral 
sense ;  it  is  always  what  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is 
only  in  certain  cases;  it  is  always  emotional.  No 
wonder  then  that  it  always  implies  what  that  sense 
only  sometimes  implies  ;  that  it  always  involves  the 
recognition  of  a  living  object,  towards  which  it  is 
directed.  Inanimate  things  cannot  stir  our  affec^ 
tions  ;  these  are  correlative  with  persons.  If,  as  is  the 
case,  v/e  feel  responsibility,  are  ashamed,  are  fright- 
ened, at  transgressing  the  voice  of  conscience,  this 
implies  that  there  is  One  to  whom  we  are  responsible, 
before  whom  we  are  ashamed,  whose  claims  upon  us 
Ave  fear.  If,  on  doing  wrong,  we  feel  the  same  tear- 
ful, broken-hearted  sorrow  which  overwhelms  us  on 
hurting  a  mother;  if,  on  doing  right,  Ave  enjoy  the 
same  sunny  serenity  of  mind,  the  same  soothing, 
satisfactory  delight  Avhich  folloAvs  on  our  receiving 
praise  from  a  father,  Ave  certainly  have  Avithin  us  the 
image  of  some  person,  to  Avhom  our  love  and  venera- 
tion look,  in  Avhose  smile  Ave  find  our  happiness,  for 
Avhom  Ave  yearn,  towards  Avhom  Ave  direct  our  plead- 
ings, in  Avhose  anger  Ave  are  troubled  and  Avaste  aAvay. 
These  feelings  in  us  are  such  as  require  for  their  ex- 
citing cause  an  intelligent  being :  Ave  are  not  affection- 
ate tOAA^ards  a  stone,  nor  do  Ave  feel  shame  before  a 
horse  or  a  dog ;  Ave  have  no  remorse  or  compunction 
on  breaking  mere  human  laAv  :  yet,  so  it  is,  conscience 
excites  all  these  painful  emotions,  confusion,  forebod- 
ing, self-condemnation ;  and  on  the  other  hand  it 
sheds  upon  us  a  deep  peace,  a  sense  of  security,  a 


io6  Re  It  o  ions  Assents. 

resignation,  and  a  hope,  which  there  is  no  sensible, 
no  earthly  object  to  elicit.  "  The  wicked  flees,  when 
no  one  one  pursueth  ;"  then  why  does  he  flee?  whence 
his  terror?  Who  is  it  that  he  sees  in  solitude,  in 
darkness,  in  the  hidden  chambers  of  his  heart?  If 
the  cause  of  these  emotions  does  not  belong  to  this 
visible  world,  the  Object  to  which  his  perception  is 
directed  must  be  Supernatural  and  Divine  ;  and  thus 
the  phenomena  of  Conscience,  as  a  dictate,  avail  to 
impress  the  imagination  with  the  picture  of  a  Supreme 
Governor,  a  Judge,  holy,  just,  powerful,  all-seeing, 
retributive,  and  is  the  creative  principle  of  religion, 
as  the  moral  sense  is  the  principle  of  ethics. 

And  let  me  here  refer  again  to  the  fact,  to  v/hich  I 
have  already  drawn  attention,  that  this  instinct  of  the 
mind  recognizing  an  external  Master  in  the  dictate  of 
conscience,  and  imaging  the  thought  of  Him  in  the 
dehnite  impressions  which  conscience  creates,  is  par- 
allel to  that  other  law  of,  not  only  human,  but  of  brute 
nature,  by  which  the  presence  of  unseen  individual 
beings  is  discerned  under  the  shifting  shapes  and  col- 
ors of  the  visible  world.  Is  it  by  sense,  or  by  reason, 
that  brutes  understand  the  real  unities,  material  and 
spiritual,  which  are  signified  by  the  lights  and  sha- 
dows, the  brilliant  ever-changing  calidoscope,  as  it 
may  be  called,  which  plays  upon  their  7'etina  ?  Not 
by  reason,  for  they  have  not  reason  ;  not  by  sense,  be- 
cause they  are  transcending  sense  ;  therefore  it  is  an 
instinct.  This  faculty  on  the  part  of  brutes,  unless  we 
were  used  to  it,  would  strike  us  as  a  great  mystery. 
It  is  one  peculiarity  of  animal  natures  to  be  suscepti- 
ble of  phenomena  through  the  channels  of  sense  ;  it  is 
another  to  have  in  those  sensible  phenomena  a  per- 


Belief  in  One  God.  107 

ception  of  the  individuals  to  which  certain  groups  of 
them  belong.  This  perception  of  individual  things  is 
given  to  brutes  in  large  measures,  and  that,  appar- 
ently from  the  moment  of  their  birth.  It  is  by  no 
mere  physical  instinct,  such  as  that  which  leads  him 
to  his  mother  for  milk,  that  the  new-dropped  lamb 
recosfnizes  each  of  his  fellow-lambkins  as  a  whole, 
consisting  of  many  parts  bound  up  in  one,  and,  before 
he  is  an  hour  old,  makes  experience  of  his  and  their 
rival  individuahties.  And  much  more  distinctly  do 
the  horse  and  dog  recognize  even  the  personality  of 
their  masters.  How  are  we  to  explain  this  appre- 
hension of  things,  which  are  one  and  individual,  in  the 
midst  of  a  world  of  pluralities  and  transmutations, 
whether  in  the  instance  of  brutes  or  of  children  ? 
But  until  we  account  for  the  knowledge  which  an 
infant  has  of  its  mother  or  his  nurse,  what  reason  have 
we  to  take  exception  at  the  doctrine,  as  strange  and 
difficult,  that  in  the  dictate  of  conscience,  without 
previous  experiences  or  analogical  reasoning,  he  is 
able  gradually  to  perceive  the  voice,  or  the  echoes  of 
the  voice,  of  a  iNlaster,  living,  personal,  and  sov- 
ereign ? 

I  grant,  of  course,  that  we  cannot  assign  a  date, 
ever  so  early,  before  which  he  had  learned  nothing  at 
all,  and  formed  no  mental  associations,  from  the  words 
and  conduct  of  those  who  have  the  care  of  him.  But 
still,  if  a  child  of  five  or  six  years  old,  when  reason 
is  at  length  fully  awake,  has  already  mastered  and 
appropriated  thoughts  and  beliefs,  in  consequence  cf 
their  teaching,  in  such  sort  as  to  be  able  to  handle 
and  apply  them  familiarly,  according  to  the  occasion, 
as  principles  of  intellectual  action,  those  beliefs  at  the 


io8  Re li odious  Assents. 

very  least  must  be  singularly  congenial  to  his  mind, 
if  not  connatural  with  its  initial  action.  And  that 
such  a  spontaneous  reception  of  religious  truths  is 
common  with  children,  I  shall  take  for  granted,  till  I 
am  convinced  that  I  am  Avronp-  in  so  doinsf.  The 
child  keenl}^  understands  that  there  is  a  difference 
between  right  and  wrong;  and  when  he  has  done 
what  he  believes  to  be  wrong,  he  is  conscious  that  he 
is  offending  One  to  whom  he  is  amenable,  whom  he 
does  not  see,  who  sees  him.  His  mind  reaches  for- 
ward with  a  strong  presentiment  to  the  thought  of  a 
Moral  Governor,  sovereign  over  him,  mindful,  and 
just.  It  comes  to  him  like  an  impulse  of  nature  to 
entertain  it. 

It  is  my  wish  to  take  an  ordinary  child,  but  one 
who  is  safe  from  influences  destructive  of  his  religious 
instincts.  Supposing  he  has  offended  his  parents,  he 
will  all  alone  and  Avithout  effort,  as  if  it  were  the  most 
natural  of  acts,  place  himself  in  the  presence  of  God, 
and  beg  of  Him  to  set  him  right  with  them.  Let  us 
consider  how  much  is  contained  in  this  simple  act. 
First,  it  involves  the  impression  on  his  mind  of  an  un- 
seen Being  with  whom  he  is  in  immediate  relation, 
and  that  relation  so  familiar  that  he  can  address  Him 
w^ienever  he  himself  chooses;  next,  of  One  whose 
goodwill  towards  him  he  is  assured  of,  and  can 
take  for  granted — nay,  who  loves  him  better,  and  is 
nearer  to  him,  than  his  parents ;  further,  of  One  who 
can  hear  him,  wherever  he  happens  to  be,  and  who 
can  read  his  thoughts,  for  his  prayer  need  not  be 
vocal ;  lastly,  of  One  who  can  effect  a  critical  change 
in  the  state  of  feeling  of  others  towards  him.  That  is, 
we  shall  not  be  wrong  in  holding  that  this  child  has 


Belief  in  One  God.  109 

in  his  mind  the  image  of  an  Invisible  Being-,  who  ex- 
ercises a  particular  providence  among-  us,  who  is  pre- 
sent every  where,  who  is  heart-reading,  heart-chang- 
ing, ever-accessible,  open  to  impetration.  What  a 
strong  and  intimate  vision  of  God  must  he  have 
already  attained,  if,  as  I  have  supposed,  an  ordinary 
trouble  of  mind  has  the  spontaneous  effect  of  leading 
him  for  consolation  and  aid  to  an  Invisible  Personal 
Power ! 

Moreover,  this  image  brought  before  his  mental 
vision  is  the  image  of  One  who  by  implicit  threat  and 
promise  commands  certain  things  which  he,  the  same 
child,  coincidently,  by  the  same  act  of  his  mind,  ap- 
proves ;  which  receive  the  adhesion  of  his  moral  sense 
and  judgment,  as  right  and  good.  It  is  the  image  of 
One  who  is  good,  inasmuch  as  enjoining  and  enforc- 
ing what  is  right  and  good,  and  who,  in  consequence, 
not  only  excites  in  the  child  hope  and  fear, — nay  (it 
may  be  added),  gratitude  towards  Him,  as  giving  a 
law  and  maintaining  it  by  reward  and  punishment, — 
but  kindles  in  him  love  towards  Him,  as  giving  him  a 
good  law,  and  therefore  as  being  good  Himself,  for  it 
is  the  property  of  goodness  to  kindle  love,  or  rather 
the  very  object  of  love  is  goodness ;  and  all  those  dis- 
tinct elements  of  the  moral  law,  which  the  typical 
child,  whom  I  am  supposing,  more  or  less  conscious- 
ly loves  and  approves, — truth,  purity,  justice,  kind- 
ness, and  the  like, — are  but  shapes  and  aspects  of 
goodness.  And  having  in  his  degree  a  sensibility 
towards  them  all,  for  the  sake  of  them  all  he  is  moved 
to  love  the  Lawgiver,  who  enjoins  them  upon  him. 
And,  as  he  can  contemplate  these  qualities  and  their 
manifestations  under  the  common  name  of  goodness, 


no  Religions  Assents. 

he  is  prepared  to  think  of  them  as  indivisible,  corre- 
lative, supplementary  of  each  other  in  one  and  the 
same  Personality,  so  that  there  is  no  aspect  of  good- 
ness which  God  is  not;  and  that  the  more,  because 
the  notion  of  a  perfection  embracing  all  possible  ex- 
cellences, both  moral  and  intellectual,  is  especially 
congenial  to  the  mind,  and  there  are  in  fact  intellec- 
tual attributes,  as  well  as  moral,  included  in  the  child's 
image  of  God,  as  above  represented. 

Such  is  the  apprehension  which  even  a  child  may 
have  of  his  Sovereign,  Lawgiver,  and  Judge ;  v/hich 
is  possible  in  the  case  of  children,  because,  at  least, 
some  children  possess  it,  whether  others  possess  it  or 
no ;  and  which,  when  it  is  found  in  children,  is  found 
to  act  promptly  and  keenly,  by  reason  of  the  paucity 
of  their  ideas.  It  is  an  image  of  the  good  God,  good 
in  Himself,  good  relatively  to  the  child,  with  what- 
ever incompleteness ;  an  image  before  it  has  been  re- 
flected on,  and  before  it  is  recognized  by  him  as  a 
notion.  Though  he  cannot  explain  or  define  the 
word  ''  God,"  vrhen  told  to  use  it,  his  acts  show  that 
to  him  it  is  far  more  than  a  word.  He  listens,  in- 
deed, with  wonder  and  interest  to  fables  or  tales ;  he 
has  a  dim,  shadowy  sense  of  what  he  hears  about  per- 
sons and  matters  of  this  world ;  but  he  has  that  within 
him  which  actually  vibrates,  responds,  and  gives  a 
deep  meaning  to  the  lessons  of  his  first  teachers  about 
the  will  and  the  providence  of  God. 

How  far  this  initial  religious  knowledge  comes  from 
without,  and  how  much  from  within,  how  much  is 
natural,  hov/  much  implies  a  special  divine  aid  which 
is  above  nature,  w^e  have  no  means  of  determining,  nor 
is  it  necessary  for  my  present  purpose  to  determine. 


Belief  in  One  God.  1 1 1 

1  am  not  engaged  in  tracing  the  image  of  God  in  the 
mind  of  a  child  or  a  man  to  its  first  origins,  but  showing 
that  he  can  become  possessed  of  such  an  image,  over 
and  above  all  mere  notions  of  God,  and  in  what  that 
image  consists.      Whether  its  elements,  latent  in  the 
mind,  would  ever  be  elicited  without  extrinsic  help  is 
very  doubtful ;  but  whatever  be  the  actual  history  of 
the  first  f(3rmation  of  the  divine  image  within  us,  so 
far  is  certain,  that,  by  inforinations  external  to  our- 
selves, as  time  goes  on,  it  admits  of  being  strengthen- 
ed and  improved.     It  is  certain  too,  that,  whether  it 
grows  brighter  and  stronger,  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  dimmed,  distorted,  or  obliterated,  depends  on  each 
of  us  individually,  and  on  his  circumstances.     It  is 
more  than  probable  that,  in  the  event,  from  neglect, 
from  the  temptations  of  life,  from  bad  companions,  or 
from  the  urgency  of  secular  occupations,  the  light  of 
the  soul  will  fade  away  and  die  out.     Men  transgress 
their  sense  of  duty,  and  gradually  lose  those  senti- 
ments of  shame  and  fear,  the  natural  supplements  of 
transgression,  w^hich,  as  I  have  said,  are  the  witnesses 
of  the  Unseen  Judge.      And,  even  were  it  deemed 
impossible  that  those  who  had  in  their  first  youth  a 
genuine  apprehension   of  Him,  could   ever  utterly 
lose  it,  yet  that  apprehension  may  become  almost  un- 
distinguishable  from  an  inferential  acceptance  of  the 
great  truth,  or  may  dwindle  into  a  mere  notion  of 
their  intellect.     On  the  contrary,  the  image  of  God, 
if  duly  cherished,  may  expand,  deepen,  and  be  com- 
pleted, with  the  growth  of  their  powers  and  in  the 
course  of  life,  under  the  varied  lessons,  within  and 
v/ithout  them,  which  are  brought  home  to  them  con- 
cerning that  same  God,  One  and  Personal,  by  means 


1 1 2  Religious  Assents. 

of  education,  social  intercourse,  experience,  and  lite- 
rature. 

To  a  mind  thus  carefully  formed  upon  the  basis  of 
its  natural  conscience,  the  world,  both  of  nature  and 
of  man,  does  but  give  back  a  reflection  of  those  truths 
about  the  One  Living  God,  which  have  been  familiar 
to  it  from  childhood.  Good  and  evil  meet  us  daily 
as  we  pass  through  life,  and  there  are  those  who  think 
it  philosophical  to  act  tov/ards  the  manifestations  of 
each  with  some  sort  of  impartiality,  as  if  evil  had  as 
much  right  to  be  there  as  good,  or  even  a  better,  as 
having  more  striking  triuniphs  and  a  broader  jurisdic- 
tion. And  because  the  course  of  things  is  determined 
by  fixed  laws,  they  consider  that  those  laws  preclude 
the  present  agency  of  the  Creator  in  the  carrying  out 
of  particular  issues.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  theology 
of  a  religious  imagination.  It  has  a  living  hold  on 
truths  w^iich  are  really  to  be  found  in  the  world, 
though  they  are  not  upon  the  surface.  It  is  able  to 
pronounce  by  anticipation,  Avhat  it  takes  a  long  argu- 
ment to  prove — that  good  is  the  rule,  and  evil  the 
exception.  It  is  able  to  assume  that,  uniform  as  are 
the  laws  of  nature,  they  are  consistent  with  a  particu- 
lar Providence.  It  interprets  what  it  sees  around  it 
by  this  previous  inward  teaching,  as  the  true  key  of 
that  maze  of  vast  complicated  disorder ;  and  thus  it 
gains  a  more  consistent  and  luminous  vision  of  God 
from  the  most  unpromising  materials.  Thus  conscience 
is  a  connecting  principle  between  the  creature  and  his 
Creator  ;  and  the  firmest  hold  of  theological  truths  is 
gained  by  habits  of  personal  religion.  When  men 
begin  all  their  works  with  the  thought  of  God,  acting 
for  His  sake  and  to  fulfil  His  v/ill,  v/hcn  they  ask  His 


Belief  in  One  God,  113 

blessing  on  themselves  and  their  life,  pray  to  Him  for 
the  objects  they  desire,  and  see  Him  in  the  event, 
whether  it  be  according  to  their  prayers  or  not,  they 
will  find  every  thing  that  happens  tend  to  confirm 
them  in  the  truths  about  Him  which  live  in  their 
imagination,  varied  and  unearthly  as  those  truths 
may  be.  Then  they  are  brought  into  His  presence 
as  a  Living  Person,  and  are  able  to  hold  converse 
with  Him,  and  that  with  a  directness  and  simplicity, 
with  a  confidence  and  intimacy,  mutatis  nnitaiidis, 
which  we  use  towards  an  earthly  superior  ;  so  that  it 
is  doubtful  whether  we  realize  the  company  of  our 
fellow-men  with  greater  keenness  than  these  favored 
minds  are  able  to  contemplate  and  adore  the  Unseen, 
Incomprehensible  Creator. 

This  vivid  apprehension  of  religious  objects,  on 
which  I  have  been  enlarging,  is  independent  of  the 
written  records  of  Revelation  ;  it  does  not  require 
any  knowledge  of  Scripture,  nor  of  the  history  or  the 
teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church.  It  is  independent 
of  books.  But  if  so  much  may  be  traced  out  in  the 
twilight  of  Natural  Religion,  it  is  obvious  how  great 
an  addition  in  fulness  and  exactness  is  made  to  our 
mental  image  of  the  Divine  Personality  and  Attri- 
butes, by  the  light  of  Christianity.  And,  indeed,  to 
give  us  a  clear  and  sufficient  object  for  our  faith,  is 
one  main  purpose  of  the  supernatural  Dispensations 
of  Religion.  This  purpose  is  carried  out  in  the  writ- 
ten Word,  with  an  effectiveness  which  inspiration 
alone  could  secure,  first,  by  the  histories  which  form 
so  large  a  portion  of  the  Old  Testament ;  and  scarcely 
less  impressively  in  the  prophetical  system,  as  it  is 
gradually  unfolded  and  perfected  in  the  writings  of 


1 14  Religions  Assents, 

those  who  were  its  ministers  and  spokesmen.  And  as 
the  exercise  of  the  affections  strengthens  our  appre- 
hension of  the  object  of  them,  it  is  impossible  to  exag- 
gerate the  influence  exerted  on  the  reUgious  imagina- 
tion by  a  book  of  devotions  so  sublime,  so  penetrating, 
so  full  of  deep  instruction  as  the  Psalter,  to  say 
nothing  of  other  portions  of  the  Hagiographa.  And 
then  as  regards  the  New  Testament,  the  Gospels, 
from  their  subject,  contain  a  manifestation  of  the 
Divine  Nature,  so  special,  as  to  make  it  appear  from 
the  contrast  as  if  nothing  were  known  of  God,  when 
they  are  unknown.  Lastly,  the  Apostolic  Epistles, 
the  long  history  of  the  Church,  with  its  fresh  and 
fresh  exhibitions  of  Divine  Agency,  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints,  and  the  reasonings,  internal  collisions,  and 
decisions  of  the  Theological  School,  form  an  extended 
comment  on  the  words  and  works  of  our  Lord. 

I  think  I  need  not  say  more  in  illustration  of  the 
subject  which  I  proposed  for  consideration  in  this 
Section,  I  have  wished  to  trace  the  process  by  which 
the  mind  arrives,  not  only  at  a  notional,  but  at  an  im- 
aginative or  real  assent  to  the  doctrine  that  there  is 
One  God,  that  is,  an  assent  made  with  an  apprehen- 
sion, not  only  of  what  the  words  of  the  proposition 
mean,  but  of  the  object  denoted  by  them.  Without 
a  proposition  or  thesis  there  can  be  no  assent,  no  be- 
lief, at  all ;  any  more  than  there  can  be  an  inference 
without  a  conclusion.  The  proposition  that  there  is 
One  Personal  and  Present  God  may  be  held  in  either 
way  ;  either  as  a  theological  truth,  or  as  a  religious 
fact  or  reality.  The  notion  and  the  reality  assented 
to  are  represented  by  one  and  the  same  proposition, 
but  serve  as  distinct  interpretations  of  it.     When  the 


Belief  in  One  God,  1 1 5 

proposition  is  apprehended  for  the  purposes  of  proof, 
analysis,  comparison,  and  the  like  intellectual  exer- 
cises, it  is  used  as  the  expression  of  a  notion  ;  when 
for  the  purposes  of  devotion,  it  is  the  image  of  a  real 
ity.  Theology,  properly  and  directly,  deals  with 
notional  apprehension ;    religion  with  imaginative. 

Here  we  have  the  solution  of  the  common  mistake 
of  supposing  that  there  is  a  contrariety  and  antago- 
nism between  a  dogmatic  creed  and]  vital  religion. 
People  urge  that  salvation  consists,  not  in  believing 
the  propositions  that  there  is  a  God,  that  there  is  a 
Saviour,  that  our  Lord  is  God,  that  there  is  a  Trinity, 
but  in  believing  in  God,  in  a  Saviour,  in  a  Sanctifier  ; 
and  they  object  that  such  propositions  are  but  a  for- 
mal and  human  medium  destroying  all  true  reception 
of  the  Gospel,  and  making  religion  a  matter  of  words 
or  of  logic,  instead  of  its  having  its  seat  in  the  heart. 
They  are  right  so  far  as  this,  that  men  can  and  some- 
times do  rest  in  the  propositions  themselves  as  ex- 
pressing intellectual  notions ;  they  are  wrong,  when 
they  maintain  that  men  need  do  so  or  always  do  -so. 
The  propositions  may  and  must  be  used,  and  can 
easily  be  used,  as  the  expression  of  facts,  not  notions, 
and  they  are  necessary  to  the  mind  in  the  same  way 
that  language  is  ever  necessar}^  for  denoting  facts, 
both  for  ourselves  as  individuals,  and  for  our  inter- 
course with  others.  Again,  they  are  useful  in  their 
dogmatic  aspect  as  ascertaining  and  making  clear  for 
us  the  truths  on  which  the  religious  imagination  has 
to  rest.  Knowledge  must  ever  precede  the  exercise 
of  the  affections.  We  feel  gratitude  and  love,  we  feel 
indignation  and  dislike,  when  we  have  the  informations 
actual!}'  put  before  us  which  are  to  kindle  those  seve- 


ii6  Religiotts  Assents. 

ral  emotions.  We  love  our  parents,  as  our  parents, 
when  we  know  them  to  be  our  parents ;  we  must 
know  of  God,  before  we  can  feel  love,  fear,  hope,  or 
trust  towards  Him.  Devotion  must  have  its  objects  ; 
those  objects,  as  being  supernatural,  when  not  repre- 
sented to  our  senses  by  material  symbols,  must  be  set 
before  the  mind  in  propositions.  The  formula,  which 
embodies  a  dogma  for  the  theologian,  readily  suggests 
an  object  for  the  worshipper.  It  seems  a  truism  to 
say,  yet  it  is  all  that  I  have  been  saying,  that  in  relig- 
ion the  imagination  and  affections  should  always  be 
under  the  control  of  reason.  Theology  may  stand  as 
a  substantive  science,  without  the  life  of  religion ;  but 
religion  cannot  maintain  its  ground  without  theology. 
Sentiment,  whether  imaginative  or  emotional,  falls 
back  upon  the  intellect  for  its  stay,  when  sense  cannot 
be  called  into  exercise ;  and  it  is  in  this  way  that  de- 
votion falls  back  upon  dogma. 


Belief  in  the  Holy    Trinity,  1 1 7 


§  2.  Belief  in  the  Holy  Trinity. 

Of  course  I  cannot  hope  to  carry  all  inquiring  minds 
with  me  in  what  I  have  been  laying  down  in.  the  fore- 
going Section.  I  have  appealed  to  the  testimony 
given  imphcitly  by  our  conscience  to  the  Divine  Be- 
ing and  His  Attributes,  and  there  are  those,  I  know, 
whose  experience  will  not  respond  to  the  appeal : — 
doubtless;  but  are  there  any  truths  which  have  real- 
ity, Avhether  of  experience  or  of  reason,  which  are  not 
disputed  by  some  schools  of  philosophy  or  some 
bodies  of  men  ?  If  we  assume  nothing  but  what  has 
universal  reception,  the  field  of  our  possible  discus 
sions  will  suffer  much  contraction ;  so  that  it  must  be 
considered  sufficient,  if  the  principles  or  facts  assumed 
have  a  large  following.  This  condition  is  abundantly 
fulfilled  as  regards  the  authority  and  religious  mean- 
ing of  conscience ; — that  conscience  is  the  voice  of 
God  has  almost  grown  into  a  proverb.  This  solemn 
dogma  is  recognized  as  such  by  the  great  mass  both 
of  the  yoimg  and  of  the  uneducated,  by  the  religious 
few  and  the  irreligious  many.  It  is  proclaimed  in  the 
history  and  literature  of  nations  ;  it  has  had  support- 
ers m  all  ages,  places,  creeds,  forms  of  social  life,  pro- 
fessions, and  classes.  It  has  held  its  ground  under 
great  intellectual  and  moral  disadvantages ;  it  has  re- 


ii8  Religions  Assents. 

covered  its  supremacy,  and  ultimately  triumphed  in 
the  minds  of  those  Avho  had  rebelled  against  it.  Even 
philosophers,  who  have  been  antagonists  on  other 
points,  agree  in  recognizing  the  inward  voice  of  that 
solemn  Monitor,  personal,  peremptory,  unargumenta- 
tive,  irresponsible,  minatory,  definitive.  This  I  consid- 
er enough  to  relieve  me  of  the  necessity  of  arguing  with 
those  who  would  resolve  our  sense  of  right  and 
wrong  into  a  sense  of  the  Expedient  or  the  Beautiful, 
or  would  refer  its  authoritative  suggestions  to  the 
effect  of  teaching  or  of  association.  There  are  those 
who  can  see  and  hear  for  all  the  common  purposes  of 
life,  yet  have  no  eye  for  colors  or  their  shades,  or  no 
ear  for  musical  sounds ;  moreover,  there  are  degrees 
of  sensibility  to  colors  and  to  sounds,  in  the  compari- 
son of  man  with  man,  while  some  men  are  stone-blind 
or  stone-deaf.  Again,  all  men,  as  time  goes  on,  have 
the  prospect  of  losing  that  recognition  of  sights  and 
sounds  which  they  possessed  in  their  youth ;  and  so, 
in  like  manner,  we  may  lose  in  manhood  and  in  age 
that  sense  of  a  Supreme  Teacher  and  Judge  which 
was  the  gift  of  our  first  years  ;  and  that  the  more,  be- 
cause in  most  men  the  imagination  suffers  from  the 
lapse  of  time  and  the  experience  of  life,  long  before 
the  bodily  senses  fail.  And  this  accords  with  the  ad- 
vice of  the  sacred  writer  to  ''  remember  our  Creator 
in  the  days  of  our  youth,"  while  our  moral  sensibili- 
ties are  fresh,  "  before  the  sun  and  the  light  and  the 
moon  and  the  stars  be  darkened,  and  the  clouds  return 
after  the  rain."  Accordingly,  if  there  be  those  Vv^ho 
deny  that  the  dictate  of  conscience  is  ever  more  than 
a  taste,  or  an  association,  it  is  a  less  difficulty  to  me  to 
believe  that  they  are  deficient  cither  in  the  religious 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity.  1 1 9 

sense  or  in  their  memory  of  early  years,  than  that  they 
never  had  at  all  what  those  around  them  without  hes- 
itation profess  to  have  received  from  nature. 

So  much  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Being  and  Attri- 
butes of  God,  and  of  the  real  apprehension  with  which 
we  can  contemplate  and  assent  to  it : — now  I  turn  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  with  the  purpose 
of  investigating  in  like  manner  how  far  it  belongs  to 
theology,  how  far  to  the  faith  and  devotion  of  the 
individual ;  how  far  the  propositions  enunciating  it 
are  confined  to  the  expression  of  intellectual  notions, 
and  how  far  they  stand  for  things  also,  and  admit  of 
that  assent  which  \nq  give  to  objects  presented  to  us 
by  the  imagination.  And  first  I  have  to  state  what 
our  doctrine  is. 

No  one  is  to  be  called  a  Theist,  who  does  not  be- 
lieve in  a  Personal  God,  whatever  difficulty  there 
m.ay  be  in  defining  the  word  ''  Personal."  Now  it  is 
the  belief  of  Catholics  about  the  Supreme  Being,  that 
this  essential  characteristic  of  His  Nature  is  reiterated 
in  three  distinct  ways  or  modes;  so  that  the  Almighty 
God,  instead  of  being  One  Person  only,  which  is  the 
teaching  of  Natural  Religion,  has  Three  Personalities, 
and  is  at  once,  according  as  we  view  Him  in  the  one 
or  the  other  of  them,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Spirit — a  Divine  Three,  who  bear  towards  Each 
Other  the  several  relations  which  those  names  indi- 
cate, and  are  in  that  respect  distinct  from  Each  Other, 
and  in  that  alone. 

This  is  the  teaching  of  the  Athanasian  Creed ;  viz. 
that  the  One  Personal  God,  who  is  not  a  logical  or 
physical  unity,  but  a  Living  Monas,  more  really  one 


I20  Religious  Assents. 

even  than  an  individual  man  is  one — ^He  (''unus,"  not 
"  unum,"  because  of  the  inseparability  of  His  Nature 
and  Personality),— He  at  once  is  Father,  is  Son,  is 
Holy  Ghost,  Each  of  whom  is  that  One  Personal  God 
in  the  fulness  of  His  Being  and  Attributes ;  so  that 
the  Father  is  all  that  is  meant  by  the  word  "  God,"  as 
if  we  knew  nothing  of  Son,  or  of  Spirit ;  and  in  like 
manner  the  Son  and  the  Spirit  are  Each  by  Himself 
all  that  is  meant  by  the  word,  as  if  the  Other  and  the 
Father  were  unknown ;  moreover,  that  by  the  word 
''  God "  is  meant  nothing  over  and  above  what  is 
meant  by  the  "Father,"  or  by  "the  Son,"  or  by  "the 
Holy  Ghost ;"  and  that  the  Father  is  in  no  sense  the 
Son,  nor  the  Son  the  Holy  Ghost,  nor  the  Holy  Ghost 
the  Father.  Such  is  the  prerogative  of  the  Divine 
Infinitude,  that  that  One  and  Single  Personal  Being, 
the  Almighty  God,  is  really  Three,  while  He  is  ab- 
solutely One, 

Indeed,  the  Catholic  dogma  may  be  said  to  be 
summed  up  in  this  very  formula  on  which  St.  Augus- 
tine lays  so  much  stress,  "  Tres  et  Unus,"  not  merel}^ 
"  Unum  ;"  hence  it  is  the  key-note,  as  it  may  be  called, 
of  the  Athanasian  Creed.  In  that  Creed  we  testify 
to  the  Unus  Increatus,  to  the  Unus  Immensus,  Omni- 
potens,  Deus,  and  Dominus ;  yet  Each  of  the  Three 
also  is  by  Himself  Increatus,  Immensus,  Omnipotens, 
for  Each  is  that  One  God,  though  Each  is  not  the 
Other ;  Each,  as  is  intimated  by  Unus  Increatus,  is  the 
One  Personal  God  of  Natural  Religion. 

That  this  doctrine,  thus  drawn  out,  is  of  a  notional 
character,  is  plain  ;  the  question  before  me  is  whether 
in  any  sense  it  can  become  the  object  of  real  appre- 
hension, that  is,  whether  any  portion  of  it  may  be 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity.  121 

considered  as  addressed  to  the  imagination,  and  is 
able  to  exert  that  living  mastery  over  the  mind,  v\^hich 
is  instanced  as  I  have  shown  above,  as  regards  the 
proposition,  "There  is  a  God." 

''  There  is  a  God,"  when  really  apprehended,  is  the 
object  of  a  strong  energetic  adhesion,  which  works  a 
revolution  in  the  mind ;  but  when  held  merely  as  a 
notion,  it  needs  but  a  cold  and  ineffective  acceptance, 
though  it  be  held  ever  so  unconditionally.     Such  is 
the  assent  of  thousands,  whose  imaginations  are  not 
at  all  kindled,  nor  their  hearts  inflamed,  nor  their  con- 
duct affected,  by  the  most  august  of  all  conceivable 
truths.     I  ask,  then,  as  concerns  the  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Trinity,  such  as  I  have  drawn  it  out  to  be,  is  it 
capable  of  being  apprehended  otherwise  than  notion- 
ally  ?     Is  it  a  theory,  undeniable  indeed,  but  addressed 
to  the  student,  and  to  no  one  else  ?     Is  it  the  elabor- 
ate, subtle,  triumphant  exhibition  of  a  truth,  completely 
developed,  and  happily  adjusted,  and  accurately  bal- 
anced on  its  centre,  and  impregnable  on  every  side, 
as  a  scientific  view,  "  totus,  teres,  atque  rotundus," 
challenging  all  assailants,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  does 
it  come  to  the  unlearned,  the  young,  the  busy,  and 
the  afflicted,  as  a  fact  which  is  to  arrest  them,  pene- 
trate them,  and  to  support  and  animate  them  in  their 
passage  through  life  ?    That  is,  does  it  admit  of  being 
held  in  the  imagination,  and  being  embraced  with  a 
real  assent  ?     I  maintain  it  does,  and  that  it  is  the  nor- 
mal faith  which  every  Christian  has,  on  which  he  is 
stayed,  which  is  his  spiritual  life,  there  being  nothing 
in  the  exposition  of  the  dogma,  as  I  have  given  it 
above,  which  does  not  address  the  imagination,  as 
well  as  the  intellect. 


122  Religious  Assents, 

Now  let  us  observe  what  is  not  in  that  exposition  ; 
— there  are  no  scientific  terms  in  it.  I  will  not  allow 
that  "  Personal "  is  such,  because  it  is  a  word  in 
common  use,  and  though  it  cannot  mean  precisely 
the  same  when  used  of  God  as  when  it  is  used  of 
man,  yet  it  may  be  sufficiently  explained  by  that 
common  use,  to  allow  of  its  being  intelligibly  applied 
to  the  Divine  Nature.  The  other  words,  which  occur 
in  the  above  account  of  the  doctrine, — Three,  One, 
He,  God,  Father,  Son,  Spirit, — are  none  of  them 
words  peculiar  to  theology,  have  all  a  popular  mean- 
ing, and  are  used  according  to  that  obvious  and 
popular  meaning,  when  introduced  into  the  Catholic 
dogma.  No  human  words  indeed  are  worthy  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  none  are  adequate ;  but  we  have 
no  other  words  to  use  but  human,  and  those  in  ques- 
tion are  among  the  simplest  and  most  intelligible  that 
are  to  be  found  in  language. 

There  are  then  no  terms  in  the  foregoing  exposi- 
tion which  do  not  admit  of  a  plain  sense,  and  they 
are  there  used  in  that  sense ;  and,  moreover,  that 
sense  is  what  I  have  called  real,  for  the  words  in  their 
ordinary  use  stand  for  things.  The  words.  Father, 
Son,  Spirit,  He,  One,  and  the  rest,  are  not  abstract 
terms,  but  concrete,  and  adapted  to  excite  images. 
And  these  words  thus  simple  and  clear,  are  embodied 
in  simple,  clear,  brief,  categorical  propositions.  There 
is  nothing  abstruse  either  in  the  terms  themselves,  or 
in  their  setting.  It  is  otherwise  of  course  with  for- 
mal theological  treatises  on  the  subject  of  the  dogma. 
There  we  find  such  words  as  substance,  essence,  exist- 
ence, form,  subsistence,  notion,  circumincession ;  and, 
though  these  are  far  easier  to  understand  than  might 


Belief  ill  the  Holy   Tri7iity,  123 

at  first  sight  be  thought,  still  they  are  doubtless 
addressed  to  the  intellect,  and  can  only  command  a 
notional  assent. 

It  will  be  observed  also  that  not  even  the  words 
''  mysteriousness  "  and  '^  mystery  "  occur  in  the  expo- 
sition which  I  have  given  of  the  doctrine ;  I  omitted 
them,  because  they  are  not  parts  of  the  Divine  Verity 
as  such,  but  in  relation  to  creatures  and  to  the 
human  intellect ;  and  because  they  are  of  a  notional 
character.  It  is  plain  of  course  at  first  sight  that  the 
doctrine  is  an  inscrutable  mystery,  or  has  an  inscrut- 
able mysteriousness  ;  few  minds  indeed  but  have  the- 
ology enough  to  see  this ;  and  if  an  educated  man, 
to  whom  it  is  presented,  does  not  perceive  that 
mysteriousness  at  once,  that  is  a  sure  token  that  he 
does  not  rightly  apprehend  the  propositions  which 
contain  the  doctrine.  Hence  it  follows  that  the  thesis 
''  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Unity  is  myste- 
rious "  is  indirectly  an  article  of  faith.  But  such  an 
article,  being  a  reflection  made  upon  a  revealed  truth 
in  an  inference,  expresses  a  notion,  not  a  thing.  It 
does  not  relate  to  the  direct  apprehension  of  the  object, 
but  to  a  judgment  of  our  reason  upon  the  object.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  mysteriousness  of  the  doctrine  is  not, 
strictly  speaking,  intrinsical  to  it,  as  it  is  proposed  to 
the  religious  apprehension,  though  in  matter  of  fact  a 
devotional  mind,  on  perceiving  that  mysteriousness, 
will  lovingly  appropriate  it,  as  involved  in  the  divine 
revelation ;  and,  as  it  turns  all  thoughts  Avhich  come 
before  it  to  a  sacred  use,  so  will  it  dwell  upon  the 
Mystery  of  the  Trinity  with  awe  and  veneration,  as  a 
truth  befitting,  so  to  say,  the  Immensity  and  Incom- 
prehensibility of  the  Supreme  Being. 


124  Religious  Assents. 

However,  I  do  not  put  forward  the  mystery,  as 
such,  as  the  direct  object  of  real  or  religious  appre- 
hension ;  nor  again,  do  I  so  put  forward  the  complex 
doctrine  itself,  in  which  the  mystery  lies,  per  viodiim 
iiniiis,  or  when  viewed  as  a  whole.    Let  it  be  observed, 
it  is  possible  for  the  mind  to  hold  a  number  of  pro- 
positions either  in  their  combination,  or  one  by  one ; 
one  by  one,  with  an  intelligent  perception  of  each, 
and  of  the  relation  of  each  tovv^ards  the  rest,  yet  of 
each  separately  from  the  rest,  for  its  own  sake  only, 
and  in  distinction  from,  not  in  connexion  with  the 
rest.     Thus  I  may  know  London  quite  well,  and  find 
my  way  from  street  to  street  in  any  part  of  it  without 
difficulty,  yet  be  quite  unable  to  draw  a  map  of  it. 
Comparison,  calculation,  cataloguing,  arranging,  clas- 
sifying, are  intellectual  acts  subsequent  upon,  and  not 
necessary  for,  a  real  apprehension  of  the  things  on 
which  they  are  exercised.     Strictly  speaking   then, 
the  dogma  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  as  a  complex  whole, 
or  as  a  mystery,  is  not  the  formal  object  of  religious 
apprehension  and  assent ;  that  religious  object  is  the 
full  number  of  propositions,  one  by  one,  in  which, 
when  viewed  together,  the  whole  doctrine  and  the 
mystery  consist.     The  mystery  also,  is  of  course  the 
object  of  assent,  but  it  is  the  notional  object ;  and 
when  presented  to  religious  minds,  it  is  received  by 
them  notionally ;  and  again  implicitly,  viz.  in  the  real 
assent  which  they  give  to  the  word  of  God  as  con- 
veyed to  them  through  the  instrumentality  of  His 
Church.     On  these  points  it  may  be  right  to  enlarge. 
Of  course,  as  I  have  been  saying,  a  man  of  ordinary 
intelligence  will  be  at  once  struck  with  the  apparent 
contrariety  between  the  propositions  which  constitute 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity,  125 

the  Heavenly  Dogma,  and,  by  reason  of  his  sponta- 
neous activity  of  mind,  and  by  an  habitual  association, 
he  will  be  compelled  to  view  the  Dogma  in  the  light 
of  that  contrariety,— so  much  so  that  to  hold  one  and 
all  of  these  separate  propositions  will  be  to  such  a 
man  all  one  with  holding  the  mystery,  as  a  mystery  ; 
and  in  consequence  he  will  so  hold  it ; — but  still,  I  say, 
so  far  he  will  hold  it  only  with  a  notional  apprehen- 
sion. He  will  accurately  take  in  the  meaning  of  each 
of  the  dogmatic  propositions  in  its  relation  to  the  rest 
of  them,  combining  them  into  one  whole  and  em- 
bracing Avhat  he  cannot  realize,  with  an  assent,  no- 
tional indeed,  but  as  genuine  and  thorough  as  any 
real  assent  can  be.  But  the  question  is  whether  a 
real  assent  to  the  mystery,  as  such,  is  possible  ;  and 
I  say  it  is  not  possible,  because,  while  we  can  image 
the  separate  propositions,  we  cannot  image  them  all 
together.  We  cannot,  because  the  mystery  tran- 
scends all  our  experience ;  w^e  have  no  experiences  in 
our  memory  v/hich  we  can  put  together,  compare, 
contrast,  unite,  and  thereby  transmute  into  an  image 
of  the  Ineffable  Verity ; — certainly  ;  but  what  is  in 
some  degree  a  matter  of  experience,  what  is  presented 
for  the  imagination,  the  affections,  the  devotion,  the 
spiritual  life  of  the  Christian  to  repose  upon  with  a 
real  assent,  what  stands  for  things,  not  for  notions 
only,  is  each  of  those  propositions  taken  one  by  one, 
and  that,  not  in  the  case  of  intellectual  and  thought- 
ful minds  only,  but  of  all  religious  minds  whatever,  in 
the  case  of  a  child  or  a  peasant,  as  well  as  of  a  philo- 
sopher. 

This  is  only  one  instance  of  a  general  principle  Avhich 
holds  good  in  all  such  real  apprehension  as  is  possible 


126  Reli^iotis  Assents, 


<i> 


to  US,  of  God  and  His  Attributes.     Not  only  do  we 
see  Him  at  best  only  in  shadows,  but  we  cannot  bring 
even  those  shadows  together,  for  they  flit  to  and  fro, 
and  are  never  present  to  us  at  once.     We  can  indeed 
combine  the  various  matters  which  we  know  of  Him 
by  an  act  of  the  intellect,  and  treat  them  theological- 
ly, but  such  theological  combinations  are  no  objects 
for  the  imagination  to  gaze  upon.     Our  image  of  Him 
never  is  one,  but  broken  into  numberless  partial  as- 
pects, independent  each  of  each.     As  we  cannot  see 
the  whole  starry  firmament  at  once,  but  have  to  turn 
ourselves    from    east   to   west,  and    then    round   to 
east  again,  sighting  first  one  constellation  and  then 
another,  and  losing  these  in  order  to  gain  those,  so  it 
is,  and  much  more,  with  such  real  apprehensions  as 
we  can  secure  of  the  Divine  Nature.     We  know  one 
truth  about  Him  and  another  truth, — but  we  cannot 
image  both  of  them  together ;  we  cannot  bring  them 
before  us  by  one  act  of  the  mind  ;  we  drop  the  one 
while  we  turn  to  take  up  the  other.     None  of  them 
are  fully  dwelt  on  and  enjoyed,  when  they  are  viewed 
in  combination.     Moreover,  our  devotion  is  tried  and 
confused  by  the  long  list  of  propositions  which  theo- 
logy is  obliged  to  draw  up,  by  the  limitations,  expla- 
nations, definitions,  adjustments,  balancings,  cautions, 
arbitrary  prohibitions,   which    are   imperatively    re- 
quired by  the  weakness  of  human  thought  and  the 
imperfections  of  human  language.     Such  exercises  of 
reasoning  indeed  do  but  increase  and  harmonize  our 
notional  apprehension  of  the  dogma,  but  they  add 
little  to  the  luminousness  and  vital  force  with  which 
its  separate  propositions  come  home  to  our  imagina- 
tion, and  if  they  are  necessary,  as  they  certainly  are. 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity,  127 

they  are  necessary  not  so  much  for  faith,  as  against 
unbelief. 

Break  a  ray  of  light  into  its  constituent  colors,  each 
is  beautiful,  each  may  be  enjoyed ;  attempt  to  unite 
them,  and  perhaps  you  produce  only  a  dirty  white. 
The  pure  and  indivisible  Light  is  seen  only  by  the 
blessed  inhabitants  of  heaven  ;  here  we  have  but  such 
faint  reflections  of  It  as  its  diffraction  supplies ;  but 
they  are  sufficient  for  faith  and  devotion.  Attempt 
to  combine  them  into  one,  and  you  gain  nothing  but 
a  mystery,  which  you  can  describe  as  a  notion,  but 
cannot  depict  as  an  imagination.  And  this  holds,  not 
only  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  but  also  of  the  Holy 
Trinity  in  Unity.  And  hence,  perhaps,  it  is  that  the 
latter  doctrine  is  never  spoken  of  as  a  Mystery  in  the 
New  Testament,  which  is  addressed  far  more  to  the 
imagination  and  affections  than  to  the  intellect. 
Hence,  too,  what  is  more  remarkable,  the  dogma  is 
not  called  a  mystery  in  the  Creeds ;  not  in  the  Apos- 
tles' nor  the  Nicene,  nor  even  in  the  Athanasian. 
The  reason  seems  to  be,  that  the  Creeds  have  a  place 
in  the  Ritual ;  they  are  devotional  acts,  and  of  the 
nature  of  prayers,  addressed  to  God ;  and,  in  such 
addresses,  to  speak  of  intellectual  difficulties  would 
be  out  of  place.  It  must  be  recollected  especially 
that  the  Athanasian  Creed  has  sometimes  been  called 
the  "  Psalmus  Quicunqiiey  It  is  not  a  mere  collection 
of  notions,  however  momentous.  It  is  a  psalm  or 
hymn  of  praise,  of  confession,  and  of  profound,  self- 
prostrating  homxage,  parallel  to  the  canticles  of  the 
elect  in  the  i\pocalypse.  It  appeals  to  the  imagina- 
tion quite  as  much  as  to  the  intellect.  It  is  the  war- 
song  of  faith,  with  which  we  warn  first  ourselves, 


128  Religious  Assents. 

then  each  other,  and  then  all  those  who  are  within  its 
hearing,  and  the  hearing  of  the  Truth,  who  our  God 
is,  and  how  we  must  worship  Him,  and  hov/  vast  our 
responsibility  will  be  if  we  know  what  to  believe,  and 
yet  believe  not.     It  is 

*'  The  Psalm  that  gathers  in  one  glorious  lay 
All  chants  that  e'er  from  heaven  to  earth  found  way  ; 
Creed  of  the  Saints,  and  Anthem  of  the  Blest, 
And  calm-breathed  warning  of  the  kindliest  love 
That  ever  heaved  a  wakeful  mother's  breast." 

For  m3'Self,  I  have  ever  felt  it  as  the  most  simple  and 
sublime,  the  most  devotional  formulary  to  which 
Christianity  has  given  birth,  more  so  even  than  the 
Veni  Creator  and  the  Te  Dciim.  Even  the  antithetical 
form  of  its  sentences,  which  is  a  stumbling-block  to  so 
many,  as  seeming  to  force,  and  to  exult  in  forcing  a 
myster}^  upon  recalcitrating  minds,  has  to  my  appre- 
hension, even  notionally  considered,  a  very  different 
drift.  It  is  intended  as  a  check  upon  our  reasonings, 
lest  they  rush  on  in  one  direction  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  truth,  and  it  turns  them  back  into  the  opposite  di- 
rection. Certainly  it  implies  a  glorying  in  the  Mys- 
tery ;  but  it  is  not  simply  a  statement  of  the  Mystery 
for  the  sake  of  its  mysteriousness. 

What  is  more  remarkable  still,  a  like  silence  as  to 
the  m3^steriousness  of  the  doctrine  is  observed  in  the 
successive  definitions  of  the  Church  concerninof  it. 
Confession  after  confession,  canon  after  canon  is  drawn 
up  in  the  course  of  centuries  ;  Pope  and  Councils  have 
found  it  their  duty  to  insist  afresh  upon  the  dogma ; 
they  have  enunciated  it  in  new  or  additional  propo- 
sitions ;  but  not  even  in  their  most  elaborate  formu- 
laries do  they  use  the  word  "  mystery,"  as  far  as  T 


Belief  in  the  Holy    Trinity.  129 

know.  The  great  Council  of  Toledo  pursues  the 
scientific  ramifications  of  the  doctrine,  with  the  exaci 
diligence  of  theology,  at  a  length  four  times  that  of 
the  Athanasian  Creed  ;  the  fourth  Lateran  completes, 
by  a  final  enunciation,  the  development  of  the  sacred 
doctrine  after  the  mind  of  St.  Augustine ;  the  Creed 
of  Pope  Pius  IV.  prescribes  the  general  rule  of  faith 
against  the  heresies  of  these  latter  times  ;  but  in  none 
of  them  do  we  find  either  the  v/ord  ''  mj^stery,"  or  any 
suggestion  of  mysteriousness. 

Such  is  the  usage  of  the  Church  in  its  dogmatic 
statements  concerning  the  Holy  Trinity,  as  if  fulfilling 
the  maxim,  ''  Lex  orandi,  lex  credendi."  I  suppose 
it  is  founded  on  a  tradition,  because  the  custom  is 
otherwise  as  regards  catechisms  and  theological  treat- 
ises. These  belong  to  particular  ages  and  places,  and 
are  addressed  to  the  intellect.  In  them,  certainly, 
the  mysteriousness  of  the  doctrine  is  almost  uniform- 
ly insisted  on.  But,  however  this  contrast  of  usage  is 
to  be  explained,  the  creeds  are  enough  to  show  that 
the  dogma  may  be  taught  in  its  fulness  for  the  pur- 
poses of  popular  faith  and  devotion  without  directly 
insisting  on  that  mysteriousness,  v/hich  is  necessarily 
contained  in  the  combined  view  of  its  separate  pro- 
positions. That  systematized  whole  is  the  object  ol 
notional  assent,  and  its  propositions,  one  by  one,  are 
the  objects  of  real. 

To  show  this  in  fact,  I  vv^ill  enumerate  the  separate 
propositions  of  which  the  dogma  consists.  They  are 
nine,  and  stand  as  follows  : — 

I.  There  are  Three  who  give  testimony  in  heaven, 
the  Father,  the  Word,  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  2.  From 
the  Father  is,  and  ever  has  been,  the  Son.     3.  From 


130  Religious  Assents. 

the  Father  and  Son  is,  and  ever  has  been,  the 
Spirit. 

4.  The  Father  is  the  One  Eternal  Personal  God. 
5.  The  Son  is  the  One  Eternal  Personal  God.  6. 
The  Spirit  is  the  One  Eternal  Personal  God. 

7.  The  Father  is  not  the  Son.  8.  The  Son  is  not 
the  Holy  Ghost.  9.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  not  the 
Father. 

Now  I  think  it  is  a  fact,  that,  whereas  these  nine 
propositions  contain  the  Mystery,  yet,  taken,  not  as  a 
whole,  but  separately,  each  by  itself,  they  are  not  only 
apprehensible,  but  admit  of  a  real  apprehension. 

Thus,  for  instance,  if  the  proposition  ''  There  is  One 
who  bears  witness  of  Himself,"  or  "  reveals  Himself," 
would  admit  of  a  real  assent,  why  does  not  also  the 
proposition  ''  There  are  Three  who  bear  witness  "  ? 

Again,  if  the  word  "  God  "  may  create  an  image 
in  our  minds,  why  may  not  the  proposition  ''The 
Father  is  God  "  ?  or  again,  ''  The  Son,"  or  ''  The  Holy 
Ghost  is  God"? 

Again,  to  say  that  "  the  Son  is  other  than  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  or  ''  neither  Son  nor  Holy  Ghost  is  the 
Father,"  is  not  a  simple  negative,  but  also  a  decla- 
ration that  Each  of  the  Divine  Three  by  Himself  is 
complete  in  Himself,  and  simply  and  absolutely  God 
as  though  the  Other  Two  were  not  revealed  to  us. 

Again,  from  our  experience  of  the  works  of  man, 
we  accept  with  a  real  apprehension  the  proposition 
"  The  Angels  are  made  by  God,"  correcting  the  word 
"  made,"  as  is  required  iii  the  case  of  a  creating  Pow- 
er, and  a  spiritual  work : — why  may  we  not  in  like 
manner  refine  and  elevate  the  human  analogy,  yet 
keep  the  image,  when  a  Divine  Birth  is  set  before  us  in 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity.  1 3 1 

terms  which  properly  belong  to  what  is  human  and 
earthly  ?  If  our  experience  enables  us  to  apprehend 
the  essential  fact  of  sonship,  as  being  a  communica- 
tion of  being  and  of  nature  from  one  to  another,  why 
should  we  not  thereby  in  a  certain  measure  realize 
the  proposition  "■  The  Word  is  the  Son  of  God  "  ? 

Again,  we  have  abundant  instances  in  nature  of  the 
general  law  of  one  thing  coming  from  another  or 
from  others  : — as  the  child  issues  in  the  man  as  his 
successor,  and  the  child  and  the  man  issue  in  the  old 
man,  like  them  both,  but  not  the  same,  so  different  as 
almost  to  have  a  fresh  personality  distinct  from  each, 
so  we  may  form  some  image,  however  vague,  of  the 
procession  of  the  Holy  Spirit  from  Father  and  Son. 
This  is  what  I  should  say  of  the  propositions  which  I 
have  numbered  two  and  three,  which  are  the  least 
susceptible  of  a  real  assent  out  of  the  nine. 

So  much  at  first  sight ;  but  the  force  of  what  I 
have  been  saying  will  be  best  understood,  by  consid- 
ering what  Scripture  and  the  Ritual  of  the  Church 
witness  in  accordance  with  it.  In  referring  to  these 
two  great  store-houses  of  faith  and  devotion,  I  must 
premise,  as  when  I  spoke  of  the  Being  of  a  God,  that 
I  am  not  proving  by  means  of  them  the  dogma  of  the 
Holy  Trinity,  but  using  the  one  and  the  other  in 
illustration  of  the  action  of  the  separate  articles  ol 
that  dogma  upon  the  imagination,  though  the  com- 
plex truth,  in  which,  when  combined,  they  issue,  is 
not  in  sympathy  or  correspondence  with  it,  but  alto- 
gether beyond  it ;  and  next  of  the  action  and  influ- 
ence of  those  separate  articles  by  means  of  the 
imagination,  upon  the  affections  and  obedience  of 
Christians,  high  and  low. 


132  Religio7is  Assents. 

This  being  understood,  I  ask  what  chapter  of  St. 
John  or  St.  Paul  is  not  full  of  the  Three  Divine 
Names,  introduced  in  one  or  other  of  the  above  nine 
propositions,  expressed  or  implied,  or  in  their  parallels, 
or  in  parts  or  equivalents  of  them  ?  What  lesson  is 
there  given  us  by  these  two  chief  Avriters  of  the 
New  Testament,  which  does  not  grow  out  of  Their 
Persons  and  Their  Offices?  At  one  time  we  read  of 
the  grace  of  the  Second  Person,  the  love  of  the  First, 
and  the  communication  of  the  Third ;  at  another  we 
are  told  by  the  Son,  ''  I  will  pray  the  Father,  and  He 
will  send  you  another  Paraclete  ;"  and  then  ''All  that 
the  Father  hath  are  Mine ;  the  Paraclete  shall  re- 
ceive of  JNIine."  Then  again  we  read  of  ''  the 
foreknowledge  of  the  Father,  the  sanctification  of 
the  Spirit,  the  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ;"  and  again  v.^e 
are  to  ''  pray  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  abide  in  the  love 
of  God,  and  look  for  the  mercy  of  Jesus."  And 
so,  in  like  manner,  to  Each,  in  one  passage  or 
another,  are  ascribed  the  same  titles  and  works : 
Each  is  acknowledged  as  Lord ;  Each  is  eternal ; 
Each  is  Truth ;  Each  is  holiness ;  Each  is  all  in  all ; 
Each  is  Creator  ;  Each  Avills  with  a  Supreme  Will ; 
Each  is  the  Author  of  the  new  birth  ;  Each  speaks 
in  His  ministers  ;  Each  is  the  Revealer ;  Each  is  the 
Lawgiver ;  Each  is  the  teacher  of  the  elect ;  in  Each 
the  elect  have  fellovvship  ;  Each  leads  them  on  ;  Each 
raises  them  from  the  dead.  What  is  all  this,  but 
''  the  Father  Eternal,  the  Son  Eternal,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  Eternal ;  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost 
Omnipotent ;  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost 
God,"  of  the  Athanasian  Creed  ?  And  if  the  New 
Testament  be,  as  it  confessedly  is,  so  real  in  its  teach 


Belief  ill  the  Holy   Trinity.  133 

ing-,  so  luminous,  so  impressive,  so  constraining,  so  full 
of  images,  so  sparing  in  mere  notions,  whence  is  this 
but  because,  in  its  references  to  the  Objects  of  our 
supreme  worship,  it  is  ever  ringing  the  changes  (so 
to  say)  on  the  nine  propositions  which  I  have  set 
down,  and  on  the  particular  statements  into  which 
they  may  be  severally  resolved  ? 

Take  one  of  them,  as  an  instance,  viz.  the  dog- 
matic sentence  "  The  Son  is  God."  What  an  illus- 
tration of  the  real  assent  which  can  be  given  to 
this  proposition,  and  its  power  over  our  affections 
and  emotions,  is  the  first  half  of  the  first  chapter 
of  St.  John's  gospel !  or  again  the  vision  of  our  Lord 
in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Apocalypse  I  or  the  first 
chapter  of  St.  John's  first  Epistle !  Again,  how  burn- 
ing are  St.  Paul's  words  when  he  speaks  of  our 
Lord's  crucifixion  and  death  !  what  is  the  secret  of 
that  flame,  but  this  same  dogmatic  sentence,  ''  The 
Son  is  God  "  ?  why  should  the  death  of  the  Son  be 
more  awful  than  any  other  death,  except  that  He, 
though  man,  was  God  ?  And  so,  again,  all  through 
the  Old  Testament,  what  is  it  which  gives  an  inter- 
pretation and  a  persuasive  power  to  so  many  pas- 
sages and  portions,  especially  in  the  Psalms  and  the 
Prophets,  but  this  same  theological  formula,  *'  The 
Messias  is  God,"  a  proposition  which  never  could 
thus  vivify  in  the  religious  mind  the  letter  of  the 
sacred  text,  unless  it  appealed  to  the  imagination, 
and  could  be  held  with  a  much  stronger  assent  than 
any  that  is  merely  notional. 

This  same  power  of  the  dogma  may  be  illustrated 
from  the  Ritual.  Consider  the  services  for  Christ- 
mas or  Epiphany ;  for  Easter,  Ascension,  and  (I  may 


134  Religiotis  Assents, 

say)  pre-eminently  Corpus  Christi ;  what  are  these 
great  Festivals  but  comments  on  the  words,  ''The 
Son  is  God  "  ?  Yet  who  will  say  that  they  have  the 
subtlety,  the  aridity,  the  coldness  of  mere  scholastic 
science  ?  Are  they  addressed  to  the  pure  intellect, 
or  to  the  imagination  ?  do  they  interest  our  logical 
faculty,  or  excite  our  devotion?  Why  is  it  that  per- 
sonally we  often  find  ourselves  so  ill-fitted  to  take 
part  in  them,  except  that  we  are  not  good  enough, 
that  in  our  case  the  dogma  is  far  too  much  a  theo- 
logical notion,  far  too  little  an  image  living  within  us  ? 
And  so  again,  as  to  the  Divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost : 
consider  the  breviary  offices  for  Pentecost  and  its 
Octave,  the  grandest  perhaps  in  the  whole  year ;  are 
they  created  out  of  abstractions  and  inferences,  or 
has  not  the  categorical  proposition  of  St.  Athanasius, 
''  The  Holy  Ghost  is  God,"  such  a  place  in  the 
imagination  and  the  heart,  as  suffices  to  give  birth 
to  the  noble  Hymns,  Veiii  Creator,  and  Veiii  Sancte 
Spiritus  f 

I  sum  up  then  to  the  same  effect  as  in  the  preced- 
ing Section.  Religion  has  to  do  with  the  real,  and 
the  real  is  the  particular;  theology  has  to  do  with 
what  is  notional,  and  the  notional  is  the  general  and 
systematic.  Hence  theology  has  to  do  with  the 
dogma  of  the  Holy  Trinity  as  a  whole  made  up  of 
many  propositions  ;  but  Religion  has  to  do  with  each 
of  those  separate  propositions  which  compose  it,  and 
lives  and  thrives  in  the  contemplation  of  them.  In 
them  it  finds  the  motives  for  devotion  and  faithful 
obedience ;  while  theology  on  the  other  hand  forms 
and  protects  them  by  virtue  of  its  function  of  regard- 


Belief  in  the  Holy   Trinity.  135 

ing  them,  not  merely  one  by  one,  but  as  a  system  of 
truth. 

One  other  remark  is  in  place  here.  If  the  separate 
articles  of  the  Athanasian  Creed  are  so  closely  con- 
nected with  vital  and  personal  religion  as  I  have 
shown  them  to  be,  if  they  supply  motives  on  which  a 
man  may  act,  if  they  determine  the  state  of  mind,  the 
special  thoughts,  affections,  and  habits,  which  he 
carries  with  him  from  this  world  to  the  next,  is  there 
cause  to  wonder,  that  the  Creed  should  proclaim 
aloud,  that  they  who  are  not  internally,  such  as 
Christ,  by  means  of  it,  came  to  make  them,  are  not 
capable  of  the  heaven  to  which  He  died  to  bring 
them?  Is  not  the  importance  of  accepting  the 
dogma  the  very  explanation  of  that  careful  minute- 
ness with  which  the  few  simple  truths  which  com- 
pose it  are  inculcated,  are  reiterated,  in  the  Creed? 
And  shall  the  Church  of  God,  to  Avhom  ^'  the  dispen- 
sation "  of  the  Gospel  is  committed,  forget  the  con- 
comitant obHgation,  ''  Woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not 
the  Gospel  "  ?  Are  her  ministers  by  their  silence  to 
bring  upon  themselves  the  Prophet's  anathema, 
*'  Cursed  is  he  that  doth  the  work  of  the  Lord  deceit- 
fully"? Can  they  ever  forget  the  lesson  conveyed 
to  them  in  the  Apostle's  protestation, ''  God  is  faith- 
ful, as  our  preaching  which  was  among  you  was  not 
Yea  and  Nay.  .  .  .  For  we  are  a  good  odor  of 
Christ  unto  God  in  them  that  are  in  the  way  of  salva- 
tion, and  in  them  that  are  perishing.  For  we  are  not 
as  the  many,  who  adulterate  the  word  of  God ;  but 
with  sincerity,  but  as  from  God,  in  the  presence  of 
God,  so  speak  we  in  Christ  "  ? 


136  Religio7is  Assents, 


§  3.  Belief  in  Dogmatic  Theology. 

It  is  a  familiar  charge  against  the  Catholic  Church 
in  the  mouths  of  her  opponents,  that  she  imposes  on 
her  children  as  matters  of  faith,  not  onl}^  such  dog- 
mas as  have  an  intimate  bearing  on  moral  conduct 
and  character,  but  a  great  number  of  doctrines  which 
none  but  professed  theologians  can  understand,  and 
which  in  consequence  do  but  oppress  the  mind,  and 
are  the  perpetual  fuel  of  controversy.  The  first  who 
made  this  complaint  w^as  no  less  a  man  than  the  great 
Constantine,  and  on  no  less  an  occasion  than  the  rise 
of  the  Arian  heresy,  which  he,  as  yet  a  catechumen, 
v/as  pleased  to  consider  a  trifling  and  tolerable  error. 
So,  deciding  the  matter,  he  wrote  at  once  a  letter  to 
Alexander,  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  and  to  Arius,  who 
was  a  presbyter  in  the  same  city,  exhorting  them  to 
drop  the  matter  in  dispute,  and  to  live  in  peace  with 
one  another.  He  was  answered  by  the  meeting 
of  the  Council  of  Niccca,  and  by  the  insertion  of 
the  word  '' Consubstantial "  into  the  Creed  of  the 
Church. 

What  the  Emperor  thought  of  the  controversy  it- 
self, that  Bishop  Jeremy  Taylor  thought  of  the  inser- 
tion of  the  ''  Consubstantial,"  viz.  that  it  was  a  mis- 
chievous affair,  and  ought  never  to  have  taken  place. 


Belief  in  Dogmatic   Theology,  137 

He  thus  quotes  and  comments  on  the  Emperor's  let- 
ter: ''The  Epistle  of  Constantine  to  Alexander  and 
Arius  tells  the  truth,  and  chides  them  both  for  com- 
mencing the  question,  Alexander  for  broaching  it, 
Arius  for  taking  it  up.  And  although  this  be  true, 
that  it  had  been  better  for  the  Church  it  had  never 
begun,  yet,  being  begun,  what  is  to  be  done  with  it? 
Of  this  also,  in  that  admirable  epistle,  Ave  have  the 
Emperor's  judgment  (I  suppose  not  without  the  ad- 
vice and  privity  of  Hosius),  .  .  .  for  first  he  calls 
it  a  certain  vain  piece  of  a  question,  ill  begun,  and 
more  unadvisedly  published, — a  question  which  no 
law  or  ecclesiastical  canon  defineth ;  a  fruitless  con- 
tention;  the  product  of  idle  brains;  a  matter  so  nice, 
so  obscure,  so  intricate,  that  it  was  neither  to  be  ex- 
plicated by  the  clergy  nor  understood  by  the  people ; 
a  dispute  of  words,  a  doctrine  inexplicable,  but  most 
dangerous  when  taught,  lest  it  introduce  discord  or 
blasphemy ;  and,  therefore,  the  objector  was  rash,  and 
the  answer  unadvised,  for  it  concerned  not  the  sub- 
stance of  faith  or  the  worship  of  God,  nor  the  chief 
commandment  of  Scripture;  and,  therefore,  why 
should  it  be  the  matter  of  discord?  for  though  the 
matter  be  grave,  yet,  because  neither  necessary  nor 
explicable,  the  contention  is  trifling  and  toyish.  ... 
So  that  the  matter  being  of  no  great  importance,  but 
vain  and  a  toy  in  respect  of  the  excellent  blessings  of 
peace  and  charity,  it  were  good  that  Alexander  and 
Arius  should  leave  contending,  keep  their  opinions  to 
themselves,  ask  each  other  forgiveness,  and  give  mu- 
tual toleration."^ 

*  "  Liberty  of  Prophesj-ing,"  §  2. 


138  Religiotts  Assents, 

Moreover,  Taylor  is  of  opinion  that  ''  they  both  did 
believe  One  God,  and  the  Holy  Trinity;"  an  opinion 
in  the  teeth  of  historical  fact.  Also  he  is  of  opinion, 
that  ''that  faith  is  best  which  hath  greatest  simplicity, 
and  that  it  is  better  in  all  cases  humbly  to  submit, 
than  curiously  to  inquire  and  pry  into  the  mystery 
under  the  cloud,  and  to  hazard  our  faith  by  improv- 
ing knowledge."  He  is,  further,  of  opinion,  that,  "if 
the  Nicene  Fathers  had  done  so  too,  possibly  the 
Church  would  never  have  repented  it."  He  also 
thinks  that  their  insertion  of  the  "  Consubstantial " 
into  the  Creed  was  a  bad  precedent. 

Whether  it  was  likely  to  act  as  a  precedent  or  not, 
it  has  not  been  so  in  fact,  for  fifteen  hundred  years 
have  passed  since  the  Nicene  Council,  and  it  is  the 
one  instance  of  a  scientific  word  having  been  intro- 
duced into  the  Creed  from  that  day  to  this.  And 
after  all,  the  word  in  question  has  a  plain  meaning,  as 
the  Council  used  it,  easily  stated  and  intelligible  to 
all;  for '' consubstantial  with  the  Father,"  is  nothing 
more  than  ''really  one  with  the  Father,"  being  adopt- 
ed to  meet  the  evasion  of  the  Arians.  The  Creed 
then  remains  now  wdiat  it  was  in  the  beginning,  a 
popular  form  of  faith,  suited  to  every  age,  class,  and 
condition.  Its  declarations  are  categorical,  brief, 
clear,  elementary,  of  the  first  importance,  expressive 
of  the  concrete,  the  objects  of  real  apprehension,  and 
the  basis  and  rule  of  devotion.  As  to  the  proper 
Nicene  formula  itself,  excepting  the  one  term  "  Con- 
substantial,"  it  has  not  a  word  which  does  not  relate 
to  the  rudimental  facts  of  Christianity.  The  Nicene- 
Constantinopolitan  and  the  various  ante-Nicene  Sym- 
bols, of  which  the  Apostles'  is  one,  add  summarily 


Belief  in  Dogmatic   Theology.  139 

one  or  two  notional  articles,  such  as  "  the  communion 
of  Saints,"  and  ''the  forgiveness  of  sins,"  which,  how- 
ever, may  be  readily  converted  into  real  propositions. 
On  the  other  hand,  one  chief  dogma,  which  is  easy  to 
popular  apprehension,  is  necessarily  absent  from  all 
of  them,  the  Real  Presence ;  but  the  omission  is  owing 
to  the  ancient  ''Disciplina  Arcani,"  which  withheld 
the  Sacred  Mystery  from  catechumens  and  heathen, 
to  whom  the  Creed  Avas  known. 

So  far  the  charge  which  Taylor  brings  forward  has 
no  great  plausibihty ;  but  it  is  not  the  whole  of  his 
case.  I  cannot  deny  that  a  large  and  ever-increasing 
collection  of  propositions,  abstract  notions,  not  con- 
crete truths,  become,  by  the  successive  definitions  of 
Councils,  a  portion  of  the  credenda,  and  have  an  im- 
perative claim  upon  the  faith  of  every  Cathohc; 
and  this  being  the  case,  it  will  be  asked  me  how  I 
am  borne  out  by  facts  in  enlarging,  as  I  have  done, 
on  the  simplicity  and  directness,  on  the  tangible 
reality,  of  the  Church's  dogmatic  teaching. 

I  will  suppose  the  objection  urged  thus : — why  has 
not  the  Catholic  Church  limited  her  credenda  to  pro- 
positions such  as  those  in  her  Creed,  concrete  and 
practical,  easy  of  apprehension,  and  of  a  character  to 
win  assent  ?  such  as  "  Christ  is  God ;  "  ''  This  is  My 
Body ;  "  ''  Baptism  gives  life  to  the  soul ;  "  "  The 
Saints  intercede  for  us  ;  "  ''  Death,  judgment,  heaven, 
hell,  the  four  last  things ;  "  "  There  are  seven  gifts  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,"  ''  three  theological  virtues,"  ''  seven 
capital  sins,"  and  the  like,  as  they  are  found  in  her 
catechisms.  On  the  contrary,  she  makes  it  imperative 
on  every  one,  priest  and  layman,  to  profess  as  revealed 
truth  all  the  canons  of  the  Councils,  and  innumerable 


140  Religious  Assents. 

decisions  of  Popes,  propositions  so  various,  so  notional, 
that  but  few  can  know  them,  and  fewer  can  under- 
stand them.  What  sense,  for  instance,  can  a  child  or 
a  peasant,  nay,  or  any  ordinary  Catholic,  put  upon 
the  Tridentine  Canons,  even  in  translation  ?  such  as, 
"  Siquis  dixerit  homines  sine  Christi  justitia,  per  quam 
nobis  meruit,  justificari,  aut  per  eam  ipsam  formaliter 
justos  esse,  anathema  sit ; "  or  ''  Siquis  dixerit  jus- 
tificatum  peccare,  dum  intuitu  asternge  mercedis  bene 
operatur,  anathema  sit."  Or  again,  such  as  the  very 
anathema  annexed  by  the  Nicene  Council  to  its 
Creed,  the  language  of  which  is  so  obscure,  that  even 
theologians  differ  about  its  meaning.  It  runs  as  fol- 
lows : — "  Those  who  say  that  once  the  Son  was  not, 
and  before  He  was  begotten  He  was  not,  and  that  He 
was  made  out  of  that  which  was  not,  or  who  pretend 
that  He  was  of  other  hypostasis  or  substance,  or  that 
the  Son  of  God  is  created,  mutable,  or  alterable,  the 
Holy  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church  anathematizes.' 
These  doctrinal  enunciations  are  ^<:_^<^r/  peasants  are 
bound  to  believe  them  as  well  as  controversialists, 
and  to  believe  them  as  truly  as  they  believe  that 
our  Lord  is  God,  How  then  are  the  Catholic  cre- 
dcnda  easy  and  within  reach  of  all  men  ? 

I  begin  my  answer  to  this  objection  by  recurring  to 
what  has  already  been  said  concerning  the  relation  of 
theology  with  its  notional  propositions  to  religious 
and  devotional  assent.  Devotion  is  excited  doubtless 
by  the  plain,  categorical  truths  of  revelation,  such  as 
the  articles  of  the  Creed  ;  on  these  it  depends  ;  Avith 
these  it  is  satisfied.  It  accepts  them  one  by  one  ;  it 
is  careless  about  intellectual  consistency;  it  draws 
from  each  of  them  the  spiritual  nourishment  which  it 


Belief  in  Dogmatic    Theology.  141 

was  intended  to  supply.     Far  different,  certainly,  is 
the  nature  and  duty  of  the  intellect.    It  is  ever  active, 
inquisitive,   penetrating;    it   examines   doctrine   and 
doctrine ;  it  compares,  contrasts,  and  forms  them  into 
a  science ;  that  science  is  theology.     Now,  theologi- 
cal science,  being  thus  the  exercise  of  the  intellect 
upon  the  crcdenda  of  revelation,  is,  though  not  directly 
devotional,  at  once  natural,  excellent,  and  necessary. 
It   is   natural,    because   the  intellect   is   one   of   our 
highest  faculties;    excellent,  because  it  is  our  duty 
to  use  our  faculties  to  the  full ;  necessary,    because, 
unless    we   apply    our   intellect    to    revealed    truth 
rightly,    others    will    exercise   their   minds    upon   it 
wrongly.     Accordingly,  the  Catholic  intellect  makes 
a  survey  and  a  catalogue  of  the  doctrines  contained 
in  the  dcpositum  of  revelation,  as  committed  to  the 
Church's  keeping;  it  locates,  adjusts,  defines  them 
each,  and  brings  them  together  into  a  whole.    More- 
over, it  takes  particular  aspects  or  portions  of  them  ; 
it  analyzes  them,  whether  into  first  principles  really 
such,  or  into  hypotheses  of  an  illustrative-  character. 
It  forms  generahzations,  and  gives  names  to  them. 
All  these  deductions   are   true,  if  rightly  deduced, 
because  they  are  deduced  from  what  is  true ;  and 
therefore  in  one  sense  they  are  a  portion  of  the  de- 
positinn  of  faith  or  crcdenda,  while  in  another  sense 
they  are  additions  to  it :  however,  additions  or  not, 
they  have,  I  readily  grant,  the  characteristic  disad- 
vantage of  being  abstract  and  notional  statements. 

Nor  is  this  all :  error  gives  opportunity  to  many 
more  additions  than  truth.  There  is  another  set  of 
deductions,  inevitable  also,  and  also  part  or  not  part 
of  the  revealed  crcdcfida,  according  as  we  please  to 


142  Religious  Assents. 

view  them.  If  a  proposition  is  true,  its  contradic- 
tory is  false.  If  then  a  man  believes  that  Christ  is 
God,  he  believes  also,  and  that  necessarily,  that  to 
say  He  is  not  God  is  false,  and  that  those  who  so  say 
are  in  error.  Here  then  again  the  prospect  opens 
upon  us  of  a  countless  multitude  of  propositions, 
which  in  their  first  elements  are  close  upon  devotional 
truth,  of  groups  of  propositions,  and  those  groups 
divergent,  independent,  ever  springing  into  life  Avith 
an  inexhaustible  fecundity,  according  to  the  ever- 
germinating  forms  of  heres}^  of  which  they  are  the 
antagonists.  These  too  have  their  place  in^theologi- 
cal  science. 

Such  is  theology  in  contrast  with  religion  ;  and  as 
follows  from  the  circumstances  of  its  formation, 
though  some  of  its  statements  easily  find  equivalents 
in  the  language  of  devotion,  the  greater  number  of 
them  are  more  or  less  unintelligible  to  the  ordinary 
Catholic,  as  law-books  to  the  private  citizen.  And 
especially  those  portions  of  theology  which  are  the 
indirect  creation,  not  of  orthodox,  but  of  heretical 
thought,  such  as  the  repudiations  of  error  contained 
in  the  Canons  of  Councils,  of  which  specimens  have 
been  given  above,  Avill  ever  be  foreign,  strange,  and 
hard  to  the  pious  but  uncontroversial  mind  ;  for  what 
have  good  Christians  to  do,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things,  with  the  subtle  hallucinations  of  the  intellect? 
This  is  manifest  from  the  nature  of  the  case;  but 
then  the  question  recurs,  why  should  the  refutations 
of  heresy  be  our  objects  of  faith  ?  if  no  mind,  theolo- 
gical or  not,  can  believe  what  it  cannot  understand, 
in  what  sense  can  the  Canons  of  Councils  and  other 
ecclesiastical   determinations   be   included    in   those 


Belief  in  Dogmatic   Theology.  1 43 

credenda  which  the  Church  presents  to  every  CathoHc, 
and  to  which  every  Catholic  gives  his  firm  interior 
assent  ? 

In  solving  this  difficulty  I  wish  it  first  observed 
that,  if  it  is  the  duty  of  the  Church  to  act  as  "  the  pillar 
and  ground  of  the  Truth,"  she  is  manifestly  obliged 
from  time  to  time,  and  to  the  end  of  time,  to  denounce 
opinions  incompatible  with  that  truth,  whenever  able 
and  subtle  minds  in  her  communion  venture  to  pub- 
lish such  opinions.  Suppose  certain  Bishops  and 
priests  at  this  day  began  to  teach  that  Islamism  or 
Buddhism  was  a  direct  and  immediate  revelation 
from  God,  she  would  be  bound  to  use  the  authority 
which  God  has  given  her  to  declare  that  such  a  pro- 
position will  not  stand  with  Christianity,  and  that 
those  wdio  hold  it  are  none  of  hers ;  and  she  would 
be  bound  to  impose  such  a  declaration  on  that  very 
knot  of  persons  who  had  committed  themselves  to 
the  novel  proposition,  in  order  that,  if  they  would  not 
recant,  they  might  be  separated  from  her  commu- 
nion, as  they  were  separate  from  her  faith.  In  such  a 
case,  her  masses  of  population  would  either  not  hear 
of  the  controversy,  or  they  would  at  once  take  part 
with  her,  and  without  effort  take  any  test,  which 
secured  the  exclusion  of  the  innovators ;  and  she  on 
the  other  hand  would  feel  that  what  is  a  rule  for  some 
Catholics  must  be  a  rule  for  all.  Who  is  to  draw  the 
line  between  who  are  to  acknowledge  her,  and  who 
are  not?  It  is  plain,  there  cannot  be  two  rules  of 
faith  in  the  same  communion,  or  rather,  as  the  case 
really  would  be,  an  endless  variety  of  rules,  coming 
into  force  according  to  the  multiplication  of  heretical 
theories,  and  to  the  degrees  of  knowledge  and  of  sen- 


144  Religiotts  Assents. 

timent  in  individual  Catholics.  There  is  but  one  rule 
of  faith  for  all ;  and  it  would  be  a  greater  difficulty 
to  allow  of  an  uncertain  rule  of  faith,  than  (if  that 
was  the  alternative,  as  it  is  not)  to  impose  upon 
uneducated  rninds  a  profession  which  they  cannot 
understand. 

But  it  is  not  the  necessar}^  result  of  unity  of  pro- 
fession, nor  is  it  the  fact,  that  the  Church  imposes 
dogmatic  statements  on  the  interior  assent  of  those 
who  cannot  apprehend  them.  The  difficulty  is  re- 
moved by  the  dogma  of  the  Church's  infallibility,  and 
of  the  consequent  duty  of  ''  implicit  faith  "  in  her 
word.  The  ''  One  Holy  Cathohc  and  Apostolic 
Church  "  is  an  article  of  the  Creed,  and  an  article, 
which,  inclusive  of  her  infallibility,  all  men,  high  and 
low,  can  easily  master  and  accept  w4th  a  real  and 
operative  assent.  It  stands  in  the  place  of  all  abstruse 
propositions  in  a  Catholic's  mind,  for  to  believe  in 
her  word  is  virtually  to  believe  in  them  all.  Even 
what  he  cannot  understand,  at  least  he  can  believe  to 
be  true  ;  and  he  believes  it  to  be  true  because  he 
believes  in  the  Church. 

The  rationale  of  this  provision  for  unlearned  devo- 
tion is  as  follows : — It  stands  to  reason  that  all  of  us, 
learned  and  unlearned,  are  bound  to  believe  the  whole 
revealed  doctrine  in  all  its  parts  and  in  all  that  it 
implies,  according  as  portion  after  portion  is  brought 
home  to  our  conscience  as  belonging  to  it;  and  it 
also  stands  to  reason,  that  a  doctrine,  so  deep  and  so 
various,  as  the  revealed  deposittivi  of  faith,  cannot  be 
brought  home  to  us  and  made  our  own  all  at  once. 
No  mind,  however  large,  however  penetrating,  can 
directly   and   fully   by   one   act   understand   any  one 


Belief  in  Dogmatic   Theology,  145 

truth,  however  simple.  What  can  be  more  intelli- 
gible than  that  "■  Alexander  conquered  Asia,"  or  that 
'*  Veracity  is  a  duty  "  ?  but  what  a  multitude  of  pro- 
positions is  included  under  either  of  these  theses  !  still, 
if  we  profess  either,  we  profess  all  that  it  includes. 
Thus,  as  regards  the  Catholic  Creed,  if  we  really  be- 
lieve that  our  Lord  is  God,  we  believe  all  that  is  meant 
by  such  a  belief;  or,  else,  we  are  not  in  earnest,  when 
we  profess  to  believe  the  proposition.  In  the  act  of 
believing  it  at  all,  we  forthwith  commit  ourselves  by 
anticipation  to  believe  truths  which  at  present  we  do 
not  believe,  because  they  have  never  comiC  before  us ; 
— we  limit  henceforth  the  range  of  our  private  judg- 
ment in  prospect  by  the  conditions,  whatever  they 
are,  of  that  dogma.  Thus  the  Arians  said  that  they 
believed  in  our  Lord's  divinity,  but  when  they  were 
pressed  to  confess  his  eternity,  they  denied  it :  there- 
by showing  in  fact  that  they  never  had  believed  in 
his  divinity  at  all.  In  other  words,  a  man  who  really 
believes  in  our  Lord's  proper  divinity,  believes  im- 
plicitc  in  His  eternity. 

And  so,  in  like  manner,  of  the  whole  dcposituvi  of 
faith,  or  the  revealed  word  : — if  we  believe  in  the 
revelation,  we  believe  in  what  is  revealed,  in  all  that 
is  revealed,  however  it  may  be  brought  home  to 
us,  by  reasoning  or  in  any  other  way.  He  who 
believes  that  Christ  is  the  Truth,  and  that  the 
Evangelists  are  truthful,  believes  all  that  He  has  said 
through  them,  though  he  has  only  read  St.  Matthew 
and  has  not  read  St.  John.  He  who  believes  in  the 
deposittnn  of  Revelation,  believes  in  all  the  doctrines 
of  the  deposit  in  It ;  and  since  he  cannot  know  them  all 
at  once,  he  knows  some  doctrines,  and  does  not  know 


146  Religious  Assents. 

others ;  he  may  know  only  the  Creed,  nay,  perhaps 
only  the  chief  portions  of  the  Creed  ;  but  whether  he 
knows  little  or  much,  he  has  the  intention  of  believ- 
ing all  that  there  is  to  believe,  whenever  and  as  soon 
as  it  is  brought  home  to  him,  if  he  believes  in  Revela- 
tion at  all.  All  that  he  knoAvs  now  as  revealed,  and 
all  that  he  shall  know,  and  all  that  there  is  to  know, 
he  embraces  it  all  in  his  intention  by  one  act  of  faith ; 
otherwise,  it  is  but  an  accident  that  he  believes  this 
or  that,  not  because  it  is  a  revelation.  This  virtual, 
interpretative,  or  prospective  belief  is  called  to  be- 
lieve implicit e  ;  and  it  follows  from  this,  that,  granting 
that  the  Canons  of  Councils  and  the  other  ecclesiastical 
documents  and  confessions,  to  which  I  have  referred, 
are  really  involved  in  the  deposition  or  revealed  word, 
every  Catholic,  in  accepting  the  dcposittnn,  does  im- 
plicite  accept  those  dogmatic  decisions. 

I  say,  ''  granting  these  various  propositions  are  vir- 
tually contained  in  the  revealed  \vord,"  for  this  is  the 
only  question  left;  and  that  it  is  to  be  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  is  clear  at  once  to  the  Catholic,  from 
the  fact  that  the  Church  declares  that  they  belong  to 
it.  To  her  is  committed  the  care  and  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  revelation.  The  word  of  the  Church  is 
the  word  of  the  revelation.  That  the  Church  is  the 
infallible  oracle  of  truth  is  the  fundamental  dogma 
of  the  Catholic  religion ;  and  ''  I  believe  what  the 
Church  proposes  to  be  believed  "  is  an  act  of  real 
assent,  including  all  particular  assents,  notional  and 
real ;  and,  while  it  is  possible  for  unlearned  as  well 
as  learned,  it  is  imperative  on  learned  as  Avell  as  un- 
learned. And  thus  it  is,  that  by  believing  the  word 
of  the  Church  iniplicitc,  that  is,  by  believing  all  that 


Belief  in  Dogmatic   Theology.  147 

that  word  does  or  shall  declare  itself  to  contain,  every 
Catholic,  according  to  his  intellectual  capacity,  sup- 
plements the  shortcomings  of  his  knowledge  with- 
out blunting  his  real  assent  to  what  is  elementary, 
and  takes  upon  himself  from  the  first  the  whole  truth 
of  revelation,  progressing  from  one  apprehension 
of  it  to  another  according  to  his  intellectual  oppor- 
tunities. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ASSENT    CONSIDERED    AS    UNCONDITIONAL. 

I  HAVE  now  said  as  much  as  need  be  said  about  the 
relation  of  Assent  to  Apprehension,  and  shall  turn  to 
the  consideration  of  the  relation  existing  between 
Assent  and  Inference. 

As  apprehension  is  a  concomitant,  so  inference  is 
ordinarily  the  antecedent  of  assent ; — on  this  surely  I 
need  not  enlarge  ;— but  neither  apprehension  nor  infer- 
ence interferes  with  the  unconditional  character  ot 
the  assent,  viewed  in  itself.  The  circumstances  of  an 
act,  however  necessary  to  it,  do  not  enter  into  the 
act ;  assent  is  in  its  nature  absolute  and  unconditional, 
though  it  cannot  be  given  except  under  certain  con- 
ditions. 

This  is  obvious ;  but  what  presents  some  difficulty 
IS  this,  how  it  is  that  a  conditional  acceptance  of  a 
proposition, — such  as  is  an  act  of  inference, — is  able 
to  lead,  as  it  does,  to  an  unconditional  acceptance  of 
it, — such  as  is  assent ;  how  it  is  that  a  proposition 
which  is  not,  and  cannot  be,  demonstrated,  which  at 
the  highest  can  only  be  proved  to  be  truth-like,  not 
true,  such  as  "  I  shall  die,"  nevertheless  claims  and 
receives  our  unqualified  adhesion.    To  the  considera- 


Assent  considered  as   Unconditional.       149 

tion  of  this  paradox,  as  it  may  be  called,  I  shall  now 
proceed  ;  that  is,  first,  to  the  consideration  of  the 
act  of  assent  to  a  proposition,  which  act  is  uncondi- 
tional ;  next,  of  the  act  of  inference,  which  goes  before 
the  assent  and  is  conditional ;  and,  thirdly,  of  the 
solution  of  the  apparent  inconsistency  which  is  in- 
volved in  holding  that  an  unconditional  acceptance 
of  a  proposition  can  be  the  result  of  its  conditional 
acceptance. 


150      Assent  considered  as  UncondiHonaL 


§  I.  Simple  Assent. 

The  doctrine  which  I  have  been  enunciating-  requires 
such  careful  explanation,  that  it  is  not  wonderful  that 
writers  of  great  ability  and  name  are  to  be  found  who 
have  put  it  aside  for  a  doctrine  of  their  own  ;  but  no 
doctrine  on  the  subject  is  without  its  difficulties,  and 
certainly  not  theirs,  though  it  carries  with  it  a  show 
of  common  sense.  The  authors  to  whom  I  refer  wish 
to  maintain  that  there  are  degrees  of  assent,  and  that, 
as  the  reasons  for  a  proposition  are  strong  or  weak,  so 
is  the  assent.  It  follovv'-s  from  this  that  absolute  as- 
sent has  no  legitimate  exercise,  except  as  ratifjdng 
acts  of  intuition  or  demonstration.  What  is  thus 
brought  home  to  us  is  to  be  accepted  uncondition- 
ally ;  but  reasonings  in  concrete  matters  are  never 
more  than  probabilities,  and  the  probability  in  each 
conclusion  which  we  draw  is  the  measure  of  our  as- 
sent to  that  conclusion.  Thus  assent  becomes  a  sort 
of  necessary  shadow,  following  upon  inference,  which 
is  the  substance;  and  is  never  without  some  alloy  of 
doubt,  because  inference  in  the  concrete  never  reaches 
more  than  probabilit}'. 

Such  is  what  may  be  called  the  a  priori  method  of 
regarding  assent  in  its  relation  to  inference.     It  con- 


Simple  Assent,  151 

demns  an  unconditional  assent  in  concrete  matters  on 
what  may  be  called  the  nature  of  the  case.  Assent 
cannot  rise  higher  than  its  source ;  inference  in  such 
matters  is  at  best  conditional,  therefore  assent  is  con- 
ditional also. 

Abstract  argument  is  always  dangerous,  and  this 
instance  is  no  exception  to  the  rule ;  I  prefer  to  go  by 
facts.  The  theory  to  which  I  have  referred  cannot  be 
carried  out  in  practice.  It  may  be  rightly  said  to 
prove  too  much ;  for  it  debars  us  from  unconditional 
assent  in  cases  in  w^hich  the  common  voice  of  man- 
kind, its  advocates  included,  would  protest  against 
the  prohibition.  There  are  many  truths  in  concrete 
matter,  which  no  one  can  demonstrate,  yet  every  one 
unconditionall}^  accepts ;  and  though  of  course  there 
are  innumerable  propositions  to  which  it  would  be 
absurd  to  give  an  absolute  assent,  still  the  absurdity 
lies  in  the  circumstances  of  each  particular  case,  as  it 
is  taken  by  itself,  not  in  their  common  violation  of  the 
pretentious  axiom  that  probable  reasoning  can  never 
lead  to  certitude. 

Locke's  remarks  on  the  subject  are  an  illustration 
of  what  I  have  been  saying.  This  celebrated  writer, 
after  the  manner  of  his  school,  speaks  freely  of  degrees 
of  assent,  and  considers  that  the  strength  of  assent 
given  to  each  proposition  varies  with  the  strength  of 
the  inference  on  wdiich  the  assent  follov\rs ;  yet  he  is 
obliged  to  make  exceptions  to  his  general  principle, 
— exceptions,  unintelligible  on  his  abstract  doctrine, 
but  demanded  by  the  logic  of  facts.  The  practice  of 
mankind  is  too  strong  for  the  antecedent  theorem,  to 
which  he  is  desirous  to  subject  it. 

First  he   says,  in  his  chapter  ''  On   Probability/* 


152      Assent  co?isidered  as   UiiconditionaL 

"■  Most  of  the  propositions  we  think,  reason,  dis- 
course, nay,  act  upon,  are  such  as  we  cannot  have 
undoubted  knowledge  of  their  truth;  yet  some  of 
them  border  so  near  upon  certainty,  that  we  make  no 
doubt  at  <7// about  them,  but  assent  to  them  as  firmly, 
and  act  according  to  that  assent  as  resolutely,  as  if 
they  were  infallibly  demonstrated,  and  that  our  know- 
ledge of  them  was  perfect  and  certain."  Here  he 
allows  that  inferences,  which  are  only  "near  upon 
certaint}^"  are  so  near,  that  we  legitimately  accept 
them  with  ''no  doubt  at  all,"  and  "assent  to  them  as 
firmly  as  if  they  were  infallibly  demonstrated."  That 
is,  he  affirms  and  sanctions  the  very  paradox  to  which 
I  am  committed  m3^self. 

Again  ;  he  says,  in  his  chapter  on  "  The  Degrees  of 
Assent,"  that  "  when  any  particular  thing,  consonant 
to  the  constant  observation  of  ourselves  and  others  in 
the  like  case,  comes  attested  by  the  concurrent  reports 
of  all  that  mention  it,  v/e  receive  it  as  easily,  and  build 
as  firmly  upon  it,  as  if  it  were  certain  knowledge, 
and  we  reason  and  act  thereupon,  zvitJi  as  little  doubt 
as  if  it  zvere  perfect  demonstration^  And  he  repeats, 
"  These  probabilities  rise  so  near  to  certainty,  that  they 
govern  our  tJiougJits  as  absolutely,  and  influence  all  our 
actions  as  fully,  as  the  most  evident  demonstration  ;  and 
in  what  concerns  us,  we  make  little  or  no  difference 
between  them  and  certain  knowledge.  Our  belief  thus 
grounded,  rises  to  assurance^  Here  again,  "probabili- 
ties "  may  be  so  strong  as  to  "  govern  our  thoughts  as 
absolutely "  as  sheer  demonstration,  so  strong  that 
belief,  grounded  on  them,  "rises  to  assurance,"  that 
is,  certitude. 

I  have  so  high  a  respect  both  for  the  character  and 


Simple  Assent,  153 

the  ability  of  Locke,  for  his  manly  simplicity  of  mind 
and  his  outspoken  candor,  and  there  is  so  much  in  his 
remarks  upon  reasoning-  and  proof  in  which  I  fully 
concur,  that  I  feel  no  pleasure  in  considering  him  in 
the  light  of  an  opponent  to  views  which  I  myself  have 
ever  cherished  as  true,  Avith  an  obstinate  devotion ; 
and  I  would  willingly  think  that  in  the  passage  which 
follows  in  his  chapter  on  ''  Enthusiasm,"  he  is  aiming 
at  superstitious  extravagances  which  I  should  repu- 
diate myself  as  much  as  he  can  do  ;  but,  if  so,  his  words 
go  beyond  the  occasion,  and  contradict  what  I  have 
quoted  from  him  above. 

"  He  that  would  seriously  set  upon  the  search  of 
truth,  ought,  in  the  first  place,  to  prepare  his  mind 
with  a  love  of  it.  For  he  that  loves  it  not  will  not  take 
much  pains  to  get  it,  nor  be  much  concerned  when  he 
misses  it.  There  is  nobody,  in  the  commonwealth  of 
learning,  who  does  not  profess  himself  a  lover  of  truth, 
— and  there  is  not  a  rational  creature,  that  would  not 
take  it  amiss,  to  be  thought  otherwise  of.  And  yet, 
for  all  this,  one  may  truly  say,  there  are  very  few 
lovers  of  truth,  for  truth-sake,  even  amongst  those 
who  persuade  themselves  that  they  are  so.  How  a 
man  may  know,  whether  he  be  so,  in  earnest,  is  worth 
inquiry  ;  and  I  think,  there  is  this  one  unerring  mark 
of  it,  viz.  tJie  not  entertaining  any  proposition  with 
greater  assurance  than  the  proofs  it  is  built  onwillzvar- 
raiit.  Whoever  goes  beyond  this  measure  of  assent, 
it  is  plain,  receives  not  truth  in  the  love  of  it,  loves 
not  truth  for  truth-sake,  but  for  some  other  bj-end. 
For  the  evidence  that  any  proposition  is  true  (except 
such  as  are  self-evident)  lying  only  in  the  proofs  a  man 
has  of  it,  whatsoever  degrees  of  assent  he  affords  it 


154      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

beyond  the  degrees  of  that  evidence,  it  is  plain  alt  that 
surplusage  of  assurance  is  owing  to  some  other  affec- 
tion, and  not  to  the  love  of  truth  ;  it  being  as  impossi- 
ble that  the  love  of  truth  should  carry  any  assent  above 
the  evidence  there  is  to  one  that  it  is  true,  as  that  the 
love  of  truth  should  be  assent  to  any  proposition  for 
the  sake  of  that  evidence  which  it  has  not  that  it  is 
true ;  which  is  in  effect  to  love  it  as  a  truth,  because 
it  is  possible  or  probable  that  it  may  not  be  true.""^'' 

Here  he  says  that  it  is  not  only  illogical,  but  im- 
moral to  "  carry  our  assent  above  the  evidence  that  a 
proposition  is  true,"  to  have  '^  a  surplusage  of  assur- 
ance beyond  the  degrees  of  that  evidence."  And  he 
excepts  from  this  rule  only  self-evident  propositions. 
How  then  is  it  not  inconsistent  with  right  reason, 
with  the  love  of  truth  for  its  own  sake,  to  allow,  in  his 
words  quoted  above,  certain  strong  "  probabilities  " 
to  ''  govern  our  thoughts  as  absolutely  as  the  most 
evident  demonstration  "  ?  how  is  there  no  "  surplusage 
of  assurance  beyond  the  degrees  of  evidence  "  when 
in  the  case  of  those  strong  probabilities,  we  permit 
"  our  belief,  thus  grounded,  to  rise  to  assurance,"  as 
he  pronounces  we  are  rational  in  doing?  Of  course 
he  had  in  view  one  set  of  instances,  Avhen  he  implied 
that  demonstration  was  the  condition  of  absolute  as- 
sent, and  another  set  when  he  said  that  it  was  no  such 
condition ;  but  he  surely  cannot  be  acquitted  of  slo- 
venly thinking  in  thus  treating  a  cardinal  subject.  A 
philosopher  should  so  anticipate  the  application,  and 
guard  the  enunciation  of  his  principles,  as  to  secure 

"  This  passage  is  already  quoted  in  my  "  Essay  on  Development  of 
Doctrine,"  p.  328. 


Simple  Assent,  155 

them  against  the  risk  of  their  being  made  to  change 
places  Avith  each  other,  to  defend  what  he  is  eager  to 
denounce,  and  to  condemn  wliat  he  finds  it  necessary 
to  sanction.  However,  whatever  is  to  be  thought  of 
his  a  priori  method  and  his  logical  consistency,  his  ani- 
uiiis^  I  fear,  must  be  vmderstood  as  hostile  to  the  doc- 
trine which  I  am  going  to  maintain.  He  takes  a  view 
of  the  human  mind,  in  relation  to  inference  and  assent, 
which  to  me  seems  theoretical  and  unreal.  Reason- 
ings and  convictions  which  I  deem  natural  and  legiti- 
mate, he  apparently  would  call  irrational,  enthusiastic, 
perverse,  and  immoral ;  and  that,  as  I  think,  because 
he  consults  his  own  ideal  of  what  ought  to  be,  instead  of 
interrogating  human  nature,  as  an  existing  thing,  as 
it  is  found  in  the  world.  Instead  of  going  by  the  tes- 
timony of  psychological  facts,  and  thereby  determin- 
ing our  constitutive  faculties  and  our  proper  condition, 
and  being  content  with  the  mind  as  God  has  made  it, 
he  would  form  men  as  he  thinks  they  ought  to  be 
formed,  into  something  better  and  higher,  and  calls 
them  irrational  and  immoral,  if  (so  to  speak)  they  take 
to  the  water,  instead  of  remaining  under  the  narrow 
wings  of  his  own  arbitrary  theory. 

I.  Now  the  first  question  which  this  theory  leads 
me  to  consider  is,  whether  there  is  such  an  act  of  the 
mind  as  assent  at  all.  If  there  is,  it  is  plain  it  ought 
to  show  itself  unequivocally  as  such,  as  distinct  from 
other  acts.  For  if  a  professed  act  can  only  be  viewed 
as  the  necessary  and  immediate  repetition  of  another 
act,  if  assent  is  a  sort  of  reproduction  and  double  of 
an  act  of  inference,  if  when  inference  determines  that 
a  proposition  is  somewhat,  or  not  a  little,  or  a  good 
deal,  or  very  like  truth,  assent  as  its  natural  and  nor- 


156      Asse7it  cojisidcred  as   Unconditional. 

mal  counterpart  says  that  it  is  somewhat,  or  not  a 
Httle,  or  a  good  deal,  or  very  hke  truth,  then  I  do 
not  see  vrhat  we  mean  by  saying,  or  why  we  say  at 
all,  that  there  is  any  such  act.  It  is  simply  superflu- 
ous, in  a  psychological  point  of  view,  and  a  curiosity 
of  subtle  minds,  and  the  sooner  it  is  got  out  of  the 
vv^ay  the  better.  When  I  assent,  I  am  supposed,  it 
seems,  to  do  precisely  wd-iat  I  do  when  I  infer,  or 
rather  not  quite  so  much,  but  something  which  is 
included  in  inferring  ;  for,  while  the  disposition  of  my 
mind  tovv^ards  a  given  proposition  is  identical  in 
assent  and  in  inference,  I  merely  drop  the  thought  of 
the  premisses  w^hen  I  assent,  though  not  of  their  in- 
fluence on  the  proposition  inferred.  This  then,  it 
seems,  is  what  nature  prescribes,  and  this  the  consci- 
entious use  of  our  faculties,  so  to  assent  as  to  do 
nothing  else  than  infer.  Then,  I  say,  if  this  be  really 
the  state  of  the  case,  if  assent  in  no  real  way  differs 
from  inference,  it  is  one  and  the  same  thing  w^ith  it. 
It  is  another  name  for  inference,  and  to  speak  of  it  at 
all  does  but  mislead.  Nor  can  it  fairly  be  argued 
that  an  act  of  consciousness,  though  distinct  from  an 
act  of  knowledge,  is  after  all  onl}^  its  repetition.  On 
the  contrary,  it  is  a  reflex  act  wdth  its  own  object,  viz. 
the  act  of  knowledge  itself.  As  well  might  it  be  said 
that  the  hearing  of  the  notes  of  my  voice  is  a  repetition 
of  the  act  of  singing : — it  supplies  no  parallel  then  to 
the  anomaty  I  am  combating. 

I  lay  it  down,  then,  as  a  principle  that  either  assent 
is  intrinsically  distinct  from  inference,  or  the  sooner 
we  get  rid  of  the  v/ord  in  philosophy  the  better.  If 
it  be  only  the  echo  of  an  inference,  do  not  treat  it  as 
a  substantive  act ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  supposing 


Simple  Assent.  157 

it  be  not  such  an  idle  repetition,  as  I  am.  sure  it  is 
^  ^  not,  supposing  the  word  "  assent "  does  hold  a  neces- 
sary place  in  language  and  in  thought,  if  it  does  not 
admit  of  being  confused  with  concluding  and  infer- 
ring, if  the  two  words  are  used  for  two  affections  of 
the  intellect  which  cannot  change  their  character,  if 
in  matter  of  fact  they  are  not  always  found  together, 
if  they  do  not  vary  with  each  other,  if  one  is  some- 
times found  without  the  other,  if  one  is  strong  when 
the  other  is  weak,  if  sometimes  they  seem  even  in 
conflict  with  each  other,  then,  since  we  know  per- 
fectly well  what  an  inference  is,  it  comes  upon  us  to 
consider  what,  as  distinct  from  inference,  an  assent  is, 
and  we  are,  by  the  very  fact  of  its  being  distinct, 
advanced  one  step  towards  that  account  of  it  which  I 
think  is  the  true  one.  The  first  step  then  towards 
deciding  the  point,  will  be  to  inquire  what  the  expe 
rience  of  human  life,  as  it  is  daii}^  brought  before  us, 
teaches  us  of  the  relation  to  each  other  of  inference 
and  assent. 

(i.)  First,  we  know  from  experience  that  assents 
may  endure  without  the  presence  of  the  inferential 
acts  upon  which  they  ^vere  given.  It  is  plain,  that, 
as  life  goes  on,  we  are  not  only  inwardly  formed  and 
changed  by  the  accession  of  habits,  but  v/e  are  also 
enriched  by  a  great  multitude  of  beliefs  and  opinions, 
and  that  on  a  variety  of  subjects.  These  beliefs  and 
opinions  held,  as  some  of  them  are,  almost  as  first 
principles,  are  assents,  and  they  constitute,  as  it  were, 
the  clothing  and  furniture  of  the  mind.  I  have 
already  spoken  of  them  under  the  head  of  "  Cre- 
dence." Sometimes  we  are  fully  conscious  of  them  ; 
sometimes  they  are  implicit,  or  only  now  and  then 


158      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

come  before  our  reflective  faculty.  Still  thc}^  are 
assents  ;  and,  when  we  first  admitted  them,  we  had^ 
some  kind  of  reason,  slight  or  strong,  recognized  or 
not,  for  doing  so.  However,  Avhatever  those  reasons 
were,  even  if  we  ever  realized  them,  v/e  have  long 
forgotten  them.  Whether  it  was  the  authority  of 
others,  or  our  own  observation,  or  our  reading,  or 
our  reflections,  which  became  the  warrant  of  our 
assent,  any  how  we  received  the  matters  in  question 
into  our  minds  as  true,  and  gave  them  a  place  there. 
We  assented  to  them,  and  we  still  assent,  though  we 
have  forgotten  what  the  warrant  was.  At  present 
they  are  self-sustained  in  our  minds,  and  have  been 
so  for  long  years ;  they  are  in  no  sense  conclusions ; 
they  imply  no  process  of  thought.  Here  then  is 
a  case  in  which  assent  stands  out  as  distinct  from 
inference. 

(2.)  Again  ;  sometimes  assent  fails,  Avhile  the  rea- 
sons for  it  and  the  inferential  act,  which  is  the 
recognition  of  those  reasons,  are  still  present,  and  in 
force.  Our  reasons  may  seem  to  us  as  strong  as 
ever,  yet  they  do  not  secure  our  assent.  Our  beliefs, 
founded  on  them,  were  and  are  not ;  we  cannot 
perhaps  tell  when  they  went ;  we  may  have  thought 
that  we  still  held  them,  till  something  happened  to 
call  our  attention  to  the  state  of  our  minds,  and  then 
we  found  that  our  assent  had  become  an  assertion. 
Sometimes,  of  course,  a  cause  may  be  found  why 
they  went ;  there  may  have  been  some  vague  feeling 
that  a  fault  lay  at  the  ultimate  basis,  or  the  under- 
lying conditions,  of  our  reasonings ;  or  some  misgiv- 
ing that  the  subject-matter  of  them  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  human  mind  ;  or  a  consciousness  that  we 


Simple  Assent.  159 

had  gained  a  broader  view  of  things  in  general  than 
when  we  first  gave  our  assent ;  or  that  there  were 
strong  objections  to  our  first  convictions,  Avliich  we 
had  never  taken  into  account.  But  this  is  not  always 
so ;  sometimes  our  mind  changes  so  quickl}- ,  so  un- 
accountably, so  disproportionately  to  any  tangible 
arguments  to  which  the  change  can  be  referred, 
and  with  such  abiding  recognition  of  the  force  of  the 
old  arguments,  as  to  suggest  the  suspicion  that  moral 
causes,  arising  out  of  our  condition,  age,  company, 
occupations,  fortunes,  are  at  the  bottom.  However, 
what  once  was  assent  is  gone  ;  yet  the  perception  of 
the  old  arguments  remains,  showing  that  inference  is 
one  thing,  and  assent  another. 

(3.)  And  as  assent  sometimes  dies  out  without  tan- 
gible reasons,  sufficient  to  account  for  its  failure,  so 
sometimes,  in  spite  of  strong  and  convincing  argu- 
ments, it  is  never  given.  We  sometimes  find  men 
loud  in  their  admiration  of  truths  which  they  never 
profess.  As,  by  the  law  of  our  mental  constitution, 
obedience  is  quite  distinct  from  faith,  and  men  may  be- 
lieve without  practicing,  so  is  assent  also  independent 
of  our  acts  of  inference.  Again,  prejudice  hinders  as- 
sent to  the  most  incontrovertible  proofs.  Again,  it  not 
unfrequently  happens,  that  while  the  keenness  of  the 
ratiocinative  faculty  enables  a  man  to  see  the  ultimate 
result  of  a  complicated  problem  in  a  moment,  it  takes 
years  for  him  to  embrace  it  as  a  truth,  and  to  recognize 
it  as  an  item  in  the  circle  of  his  knowledge.  Yet  he 
does  at  last  so  accept  it,  and  then  we  say  that  he  assents. 

(4.)  Again  ;  very  numerous  are  the  cases,  in  which 
good  arguments,  and  really  good  as  far  as  they  go, 
and  confessed  by  us  to  be  good,  nevertheless  are  not 


i6o      Assent  conside7^ed  as   Unconditional. 

strong  enough  to  incline  our  minds  ever  so  little  to 
the  conclusion  at  which  they  point.  But  why  is  it 
that  we  do  not  assent  a  little,  in  proportion  to  those 
arguments?  On  the  contrary,  we  throw  the  i\\SioruLs 
■prohandi  on  the  side  of  the  conclusion,  and  we  refuse 
to  assent  to  it  at  all  until  we  can  assent  to  it  altogeth- 
er. The  proof  is  capable  of  growth  ;  but  the  assent 
either  exists  or  does  not  exist. 

(5.)  I  have  already  alluded  to  the  influence  of  moral 
motives  in  hindering  assent  to  conclusions  which  are 
logically  unimpeachable.     According  to  the  couplet, 

"  A  man  convinced  against  his  will 
Is  of  the  same  opinion  still," 

assent  then  is  not  the  same  as  inference. 

(6.)  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  contrast  between 
inference  and  assent  is  exemplified  even  in  the  pro- 
vince of  mathematics.  Argument  is  not  always  able 
to  command  our  assent,  even  though  it  be  demonstra- 
tive. Sometimes  of  course  it  forces  its  way,  that  is, 
when  the  steps  of  the  reasoning  are  few,  and  admit  of 
being  viewed  by  the  mind  altogether.  Certainly,  one 
cannot  conceive  a  man  having  before  him  the  series 
of  conditions  and  truths  on  which  it  depends  that  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  together  equal  to  two 
right  angles,  and  yet  not  assenting  to  that  proposition. 
Were  all  propositions  as  plain,  though  assent  would 
not  in  consequence  be  the  same  act  as  inference,  yet 
it  would  certainly  follow  immediately  upon  it.  I  al- 
low then  as  much  as  this,  that,  when  an  argument  is 
in  itself  and  by  itself  conclusive  of  a  truth,  it  has  by  a 
law  of  our  nature  the  same  command  over  our  assent, 
or  rather  the  truth  which  it  has  reached  has  the  same 
command,  as  our  senses  have.     Certainly  our  intel- 


Simple  Assent  i6i 

lectual  nature  is  under  laws,  and  the  correlative  of 
ascertained  truth  is  unreserved  assent. 

But  I  am  not  speaking  of  short  and  lucid  demon- 
strations ;  but  of  long  and  intricate  mathematical  in- 
vestigations ;  and  in  that  case,  though  every  step 
may  be  indisputable,  it  still  requires  a  specially  sus- 
tained attention  and  an  effort  of  memory  to  have  in 
the  mind  all  at  once  all  the  steps  of  the  proof,  with 
their  bearings  on  each  other,  and  the  antecedents 
which  they  severalty  involve  ;  and  these  conditions  of 
the  inference  may  interfere  with  the  promptings  of 
our  assent. 

Hence  it  is  that  party  spirit  or  national  feeling  or 
religious  prepossessions  have  before  now  had  power 
to  retard  the  reception  of  truths  of  a  mathematical 
character ;  which  never  could  have  been,  if  demon- 
strations were  ipso  facto  assents.  Nor  indeed  would 
any  mathematician,  even  in  questions  of  pure  science, 
assent  to  his  own  conclusions,  on  new  and  difficult 
ground,  and  in  the  case  of  abtruse  calculations,  how- 
ever often  he  went  over  his  work,  till  he  had  the 
corroboration  of  other  judgments  beside  his  own.  He 
would  have  carefully  revised  his  inference,  and  would 
assent  to  the  probability  of  his  accuracy  in  inferring, 
but  still  he  would  abstain  from  an  immediate  assent 
to  the  truth  of  his  conclusion.  Yet  the  corroboration 
of  others  cannot  add  to  his  perception  of  the  proof;  he 
would  still  perceive  the  proof,  even  though  he  failed 
in  gaining  their  corroboration.  And  yet  again  he 
might  arbitrarily  make  it  his  rule,  never  to  assent  to 
his  conclusions  without  such  corroboration,  or  at 
least  before  the  lapse  of  a  sufficient  interval.  Here 
again  inference  is  distinct  from  assent. 


1 62       Assent  co7tsidered  as  Uncojtditioiial. 

I  have  been  showing  that  inference  and  assent  are 
distinct  acts  of  the  mind,  and  that  they  may  be  made 
apart  from  each  other.  Of  course  I  cannot  be  taken 
to  mean  that  there  is  no  legitimate  or  actual  connex- 
ion between  them,  as  if  arguments  adverse  to  a  con- 
clusion did  not  naturally  hinder  assent ;  or  as  if  the 
inclination  to  assent  were  not  greater  or  less  accord- 
ing as  the  particular  act  of  inference  expressed  a 
stronger  or  weaker  probability ;  or  as  if  assent  did 
not  always  imply  grounds  in  reason,  implicit,  if  not 
explicit,  or  could  be  rightly  given  without  sufficient 
grounds.  So  much  is  it  commonly  felt  that  assent 
must  be  preceded  by  inferential  acts,  that  obstinate 
men  give  their  own  will  as  their  very  reason  for  as- 
senting, if  they  can  think  of  nothing  better  ;  "  stat  pro 
ratione  voluntas."  Indeed,  I  doubt  whether  assent 
is  ever  given  without  some  preliminary,  which  stands 
for  a  reason  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  from  this,  that  it 
may  not  be  withheld  where  there  are  good  reasons 
for  giving  it  to  a  proposition,  or  may  not  be  with- 
drawn after  it  has  been  given,  the  reasons  remaining, 
or  may  not  remain  when  the  reasons  are  forgotten,  or 
must  vary  in  strength,  as  the  reasons  vary ;  and  this 
substantiveness,  as  I  may  call  it,  of  the  act  of  assent 
is  the  very  point  Avhich  I  have  wished  to  establish. 

2.  And  in  showing  that  assent  is  distinct  from  an 
act  of  inference,  I  have  gone  a  good  way  towards 
shoAving  in  what  it  differs  from  it.  If  assent  and 
inference  are  each  of  them  the  acceptance  of  a  pro- 
position, but  the  special  characteristic  of  inference 
is  that  it  is  conditional,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  that 
assent  is  unconditional.  Again,  if  assent  is  the  accep- 
tance of  truth,  and  truth  is  the  proper  object  of  the 


Simple  Assent  163 

intellect,  and  no  one  can  hold  conditionally  what  by 
the  same  act  he  holds  to  be  true,  here  too  is  a  reason 
for  saying  that  assent  is  an  adhesion  without  reserve 
or  doubt  to  the  proposition  to  which  it  is  given. 
And  again,  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  the  word  has  not 
two  meanings :  what  it  has  at  one  time,  it  has  at 
another.  Inference  is  always  inference ;  even  if 
demonstrative,  it  is  still  conditional ;  it  establishes  an 
incontrovertible  conclusion  on  the  condition  of  incon- 
trovertible premisses.  To  the  conclusion  thus  drawn, 
assent  gives  its  absolute  recognition.  In  the  case  of 
all  demonstrations,  assent,  when  given,  is  uncondi- 
tionally given.  In  one  class  of  subjects,  then,  assent 
certainly  is  always  unconditional ;  but  if  the  word 
stands  for  an  undoubting  and  unhesitating  act  of  the 
mind  once,  Avhy  does  it  not  denote  the  same  always  ? 
what  evidence  is  there  that  it  ever  means  any  thing 
else  than  that  which  the  whole  world  will  unite  in 
witnessing  that  it  means  in  certain  cases  ?  why  are  we 
not  to  interpret  what  is  controverted  by  what  is 
known?  This  is  what  is  suggested  on  the  first  view 
of  the  question  ;  but  to  continue  : — 

Assent  excludes  the  presence  of  doubt  in  demon- 
strative matters :  now  are  instances  producible  of  its 
ever  implying  doubt  in  the  concrete  ?  As  the  above 
instances  have  shown,  on  very  many  questions  we  do 
not  give  an  assent  at  all.  What  commonly  happens 
is  this,  that,  after  hearing  and  entering  into  what  may 
be  said  for  a  proposition,  we  pronounce  neither  for 
nor  against  it.  We  may  accept  the  conclusion  as  a 
conclusion,  dependent  on  premisses,  abstract,  and 
tending  to  the  concrete  ;  but  we  do  not  follow  up 
our  inference  with  an  assent  to  it     That  there  are 


1 64      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

concrete  propositions  to  which  we  give  unconditional 
assents,  I  shall  presently  show ;  but  I  am  now  asking 
for  instances  of  conditional,  for  instances  in  which  we 
assent  a  little  and  not  much.  Usually,  we  do  not 
assent  at  all.  Every  day,  as  it  comes,  brings  with  it 
opportunities  for  us  to  enlarge  our  circle  of  assents. 
We  read  the  newspapers ;  we  look  through  debates 
in  Parliament,  pleadings  in  the  law  courts,  leading 
articles,  letters  of  correspondents,  reviews  of  books, 
criticisms  in  the  fine  arts,  and  we  either  form  no 
opinion  at  all  upon  the  subjects  discussed,  as  lying 
out  of  our  line,  or  at  most  we  have  only  an  opinion 
about  them.  At  the  utmost  we  say  that  we  are 
inchned  to  believe  this  position  or  that,  that  we  are 
not  sure  it  is  not  true,  that  much  may  be  said  for  it, 
that  we  have  been  much  struck  by  it ;  but  we  never 
say  that  we  give  it  a  degree  of  assent.  We  might  as 
well  talk  of  degrees  of  truth  as  of  degrees  of  assent. 

Yet  Locke  heads  one  of  his  chapters  with  the  title 
''  Degrees  of  Assent ;"  and  a  writer,  of  this  century, 
who  claims  our  respect  from  the  character  of  his 
work,  thus  expresses  himself  after  Locke's  manner : 
''Moral  evidence,"  he  says,  ''may  produce  a  variety 
of  degrees  of  assents,  from  suspicion  to  moral  cer- 
tainty. For,  here,  the  degree  of  assent  depends  upon 
the  degree  in  v/hich  the  evidence  on  one  side  prepon- 
derates, or  excee^ds  that  on  the  other.  And  as  this 
preponderancy  may  vary  almost  infinitely,  so  like- 
wise may  the  degrees  of  assent.  For  a  few  of  these 
degrees,  though  but  for  a  few,  names  have  been 
invented.  Thus,  when  the  evidence  on  one  side  pre- 
ponderates a  very  Httle,  there  is  ground  for  suspicion, 
or  conjecture.      Presumption,  persuasion,  behef,  con- 


Simple  Assent.  165 

elusion,  conviction,  moral  certainty, — doubt,  waver- 
ing, distrust,  disbelief, — are  words  which  imply  an 
increase  or  decrease  of  this  preponderancy.  Some  of 
these  words  also  admit  of  epithets  which  denote  a 
further  increase  or  diminution  of  the  assent."  '^' 

Can  there  be  a  better  illustration  than  this  passage 
supplies  of  what  I  have  been  insisting  on  above,  viz. 
that,  in  teaching  various  degrees  of  assent,  we  tend  to 
destroy  assent,  as  an  act  of  the  mind,  altogether  ? 
This  author  makes  the  degrees  of  assent  "  infinite,"  as 
the  degrees  of  probability  are  infinite.  His  assents 
are  really  only  inferences,  and  assent  is  a  name  with- 
out a  meaning,  the  needless  repetition  of  an  inference. 
But  in  truth  ''suspicion,  conjecture,  presumption, 
persuasion,  belief,  conclusion,  conviction,  moral  cer- 
tainty," are  not  ''  assents "  at  all ;  they  are  simply 
more  or  less  strong  inferences  of  a  proposition ;  and 
''  doubt,  wavering,  distrust,  disbelief,"  are  recogni- 
tions, more  or  less  strong,  of  the  probability  of  its 
contradictory. 

There  is  only  one  sense  in  which  we  are  allowed  to 
call  such  acts  or  states  of  mind  assents.  They  are 
opinions  ;  and,  as  being  such,  they  are,  as  I  have 
already  observed,  v/hen  speaking  of  Opinion,  assents 
to  the  plausibility,  probabiHty,  doubtfulness,  or  un- 
trustworthiness,  of  a  proposition ;  that  is,  not  varia- 
tions of  assent  to  an  inference,  but  assents  to  a  variation 
in  inferences.  When  I  assent  to  a  doubtfulness,  or  to 
a  probability,  my  assent,  as  such,  is  as  complete  as  if 
I  assented  to  a  truth ;  it  is  not  a  certain  degree  of 
assent.     And,  in  like  manner,  I  may  be  certain  of  an 

*  Gambier  en  Moral  Evidence,  p.  6. 


1 66      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

uncertainty ;  that  does  not  destroy  the  specific  notion 
convened  in  the  word  ''  certain." 

I  do  not  know  then  when  it  is  that  we  ever  deUber- 
ately  profess  assent  to  a  proposition  without  meaning 
to  convey  to  others  the  impression  that  we  accept  it 
unreservedly,  and  that  because  it  is  true.  Certainly, 
we  familiarly  use  such  phrases  as  a  half-assent,  as  we 
also  speak  of  half-truths  ;  but  a  half-assent  is  not 
a  kind  of  assent,  any  more  than  a  half-truth  is 
a  kind  of  truth.  As  the  object  is  indivisible,  so 
is  the  act.  A  half-truth  is  a  proposition  which  in 
one  aspect  is  a  truth,  and  in  another  is  not ;  to  give 
a  half-assent  is  to  feel  drawn  towards  assent,  or  to 
assent  one  moment  and  not  the  next,  or  to  be  in  the 
way  to  assent  to  it.  It  means  that  the  proposition  in 
question  deserves  a  hearing,  that  it  is  probable,  or 
attractive,  that  it  opens  important  viev»'s,  that  it  is  a 
key  to  perplexing  difficulties,  or  the  like. 

Treating  the  subject  then,  not  according  to  a  prioi'l 
fitness,  but  according  to  the  facts  of  human  nature,  as 
they  are  found  in  the  concrete  action  of  life,  I  find 
numberless  cases  in  which  we  do  not  assent  at  all, 
none  in  which  assent  is  evidently  conditional ; — and 
many,  as  I  shall  now  proceed  to  show,  in  which  it  is 
unconditional,  and  these  in  subject-matters  which 
admit  of  nothing  higher  than  probable  reasoning. 
If  human  nature  is  to  be  its  own  witness,  there  is 
no  medium  between  assenting  and  not  assenting. 
Locke's  theory  of  the  duty  of  assenting  more  or 
less  according  to  degrees  of  evidence,  is  invalidated 
by  the  testimon}-  of  high  and  low,  young  and  old, 
ancient  and  modern,  as  continually  given  in  their 
ordinary   sayings   and    doings.      Indeed,    as    I    have 


Simple  Assent,  167 

shown,  he  does  not  strictly  maintain  it  himself;  yet, 
thousfh  he  feels  the  claims  of  nature  and  fact  to  be 
too  strong  for  him  in  certain  cases,  he  gives  no  rea- 
son why  he  should  violate  his  theory  in  these,  and 
yet  not  in  many  more. 

Now  let  us  review  some  of  those  assents,  which 
men  give  on  evidence  short  of  intuition  and  demon- 
stration, yet  which  are  as  unconditional  as  if  they 
had  that  evidence. 

First  of  all,  starting  from  intuition,  of  course  we  all 
believe,  without  any  doubt,  that  we  exist ;  that  we 
have  an  individuality  and  identity  all  our  own ;  that 
we  think,  feel,  and  act,  m  the  home  of  our  own 
minds ;  that  we  have  a  present  sense  of  good  and 
evil,  of  a  right  and  a  wrong,  of  a  true  and  a  false,  of  a 
beautiful  and  a  hideous,  however  we  analyze  our 
ideas  of  them.  We  have  an  absolute  vision  before  us 
of  what  happened  yesterday  or  last  year,  so  as  to  be 
able  without  any  chance  of  mistake  to  give  evidence 
upon  it  in  a  court  of  justice,  let  the  consequences  be 
ever  so  serious.  We  are  sure  that  of  many  things 
we  are  ignorant,  that  of  many  things  we  are  in 
doubt,  and  that  of  many  things  we  are  not  in  doubt. 

Nor  is  the  assent  which  we  give  to  facts  limited  to 
the  range  of  self-consciousness.  We  are  sure  beyond 
all  hazard  of  a  mistake,  that  our  own  self  is  not  the 
only  being  existing ;  that  there  is  an  external  world  ; 
that  it  is  a  system  w^ith  parts  and  a  whole,  a  universe 
carried  on  by  laws ;  and  that  the  future  is  affected  by 
the  past.  We  accept  and  hold  with  an  unqualified 
assent,  that  the  earth,  considered  as  a  phenomenon,  is 
a  globe ;  that  all  its  regions  see  the  sun  by  turns ; 
that  there  are  vast  tracts  on  it  of  land  and  water; 


i68      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

that  there  are  really  existing  cities  on  definite  sites, 
which  go  by  the  names  of  London,  Paris,  Florence, 
and  Madrid.  We  are  sure  that  Paris  or  London, 
unless  swallowed  up  by  an  earthquake  or  burned  to 
the  ground,  is  to-day  just  Avhat  it  was  yesterday, 
when  Vv^e  left  it. 

We  laugh  to  scorn  the  idea  that  we  had  no  parents, 
though  Ave  have  no  memory  of  ovir  birth  ;  that  we 
shall  never  die,  though  we  can  have  no  experience 
of  the  future ;  that  we  are  able  to  live  without  food, 
though  we  have  never  tried  ;  that  a  v.^orld  of  men  did 
not  live  before  our  time,  or  that  that  world  has  had  no 
history  ;  that  there  has  been  no  rise  and  fall  of  states, 
no  great  men,  no  wars,  no  revolutions,  no  art,  no 
science,  no  literature,  no  religion. 

We  should  be  either  shocked  or  amused  at  the  re- 
port of  our  intimate  friend  being  false  to  us ;  and  we 
are  able  sometimes,  without  any  hesitation,  to  accuse 
certain  parties  of  hostility  and  injustice  to  us.  We 
may  have  a  deep  consciousness,  v/hich  Ave  never  can 
lose,  that  we  on  our  part  have  been  cruel  to  others, 
and  that  they  have  felt  us  to  be  so,  or  that  we  have 
been,  and  have  been  felt  to'^  be,  ungenerous  to  those 
who  love  us.  We  may  have  an  overpoAvering  sense 
of  our  moral  Aveakness,  of  the  precariousness  of  our 
life,  health,  Avealth,  position,  and  good  fortune.  We 
may  have  a  clear  vicAv  of  the  Aveak  points  of  our 
physical  constitution,  of  Avhat  food  or  medicine  is 
good  for  us,  and  Avhat  does  us  harm.  We  may  be 
able  to  master,  at  least  in  part,  the  course  of  our  past 
history;  its  turning-points,  our  hits,  and  our  great 
mistakes.  We  may  have  a  sense  of  the  presence  of 
a   Supreme    Being,  Avhich  never   has   been  dimmed 


Simple  Assent.  169 

by  even  a  passing  shadow,  which  has  inhabited  us 
ever  since  we  can  recollect  any  thing,  and  which  we 
cannot  imagine  our  losing.  We  may  be  able,  for 
others  have  been  able,  so  to  realize  the  precepts  and 
truths  of  Christianity,  as  deliberately  to  surrender 
our  life,  rather  than  transgress  the  one  or  to  deny 
the  other. 

On  all  these  truths  we  have  an  immediate  and  an 
unhesitating  hold,  nor  do  we  think  ourselves  guilty 
of  not  loving  truth  for  truth's  sake,  because  we  can- 
not reach  them  through  a  series  of  intuitive  proposi- 
tions. Assent  on  reasonings  not  demonstrative  is  too 
widely  recognized  an  act  to  be  irrational,  unless  man's 
nature  is  irrational,  too  familiar  to  the  prudent  and 
clear-minded  to  be  an  infirmity  or  an  extravagance. 
None  of  us  can  think  or  act  without  the  acceptance 
of  truths,  not  intuitive,  not  demonstrated,  yet  sover- 
eign. If  our  nature  has  any  constitution,  any  laws, 
one  of  them  is  this  absolute  reception  of  propositions 
as  true,  which  lie  outside  the  narrow  range  of  con- 
clusions to  which  logic,  formal  or  virtual,  is  tethered  ; 
nor  has  any  philosophical  theory  the  power  to  force 
on  us  a  rule  which  will  not  work  for  a  day. 

When,  then,  philosophers  lay  down  principles,  on 
which  it  follows  that  our  assent,  except  when  given 
to  objects  of  intuition  or  demonstration,  is  condi- 
tional, that  the  assent  given  to  propositions  by  well- 
ordered  minds  necessarily  varies  with  the  proof  pro- 
ducible for  them,  and  that  it  does  not  and  cannot 
remain  one  and  the  same  while  the  proof  is  strength- 
ened or  weakened, — are  they  not  to  be  considered  as 
confusing  together  two  things  very  distinct  from  each 
other,  a  mental  act  pr  state  and  a  scientific  rule,  an 


170      Assent  considered  as   UnuviditionaL 

interior  assent  and  a  set  of  logical  formulas  ?  When 
they  speak  of  degrees  of  assent,  surely  they  have  no 
intention  at  all  of  defining  the  position  of  the  mind 
itself  relative  to  the  adoption  of  a  given  conclusion, 
but  they  mean  to  determine  the  relation  of  that  con- 
clusion towards  its  premisses.  They  are  contemplat- 
ing how  representative  symbols  work,  not  how  the 
intellect  is  affected  towards  the  thing  which  those 
symbols  represent.  In  real  truth  they  as  little  mean 
to  assert  the  principle  of  measuring  our  assents  by 
our  logic,  as  they  would  fancy  they  could  record  the 
refreshment  which  we  receive  from  the  open  air  by 
the  readings  of  the  graduated  scale  of  a  thermometer. 
There  is  a  connexion  doubtless  between  a  logical 
conclusion  and  an  assent,  as  there  is  between  the 
variation  of  the  mercury  and  our  sensations  ;  but  the 
mercury  is  not  the  cause  of  life  and  health,  nor  is 
verbal  argumentation  the  principle  of  inward  belief. 
If  we  feel  hot  or  chill}^,  no  one  will  convince  us  to  the 
contrary  by  insisting  that  the  glass  is  at  60°.  It  is 
the  mind  that  reasons  and  assents,  not  a  diagram  on 
paper.  I  may  have  difficulty  in  the  management  of 
a  proof,  while  I  remain  unshaken  in  my  adherence  to 
the  conclusion.  Supposing  a  boy  cannot  make  his 
answer  to  some  arithmetical  or  algebraical  question 
tally  with  the  book,  need  he  at  once  distrust  the 
book  ?  Does  his  trust  in  it  fall  down  a  certain  number 
of  degrees,  according  to  the  force  of  his  difficulty  ? 
On  the  contrary,  he  keeps  to  the  principle,  implicit 
but  present  to  his  mind,  with  which  he  took  up  the 
book,  that  the  book  is  more  likely  to  be  right 
than  he  is  ;  and  this  mere  preponderance  of  proba- 
bility is  sufficient  to  make  him  faithful  to  his  belief 


Simple  Assent.  171 

in  its  correctness,  till  its  incorrectness  is  actually 
proved. 

My  own  opinion  is,  that  the  class  of  writers  of  whom 
I  have  been  speaking-,  have  themselves  as  little  mis- 
giving about  the  truths  which  they  pretend  to  weigh 
out  and  measure  as  their  unsophisticated  neighbors ; 
but  they  think  it  a  duty  to  remind  us,  that  since  the 
full  etiquette  of  logical  requirements  has  not  been 
satisfied,  Ave  must  believe  those  truths  at  our  peril. 
They  warn  us,  that  a  result  which  can  never  come  to 
pass,  in  matter  of  fact,  is  nevertheless  in  theory  a  pos- 
sible supposition.  They  do  not,  for  instance,  intend 
for  a  moment  to  imply  that  there  is  even  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  that  Great  Britain  is  an  island,  but  they 
think  we  ought  to  know,  if  we  do  not  know,  that  there 
is  no  proof  of  the  fact,  in  mode  and  figure,  equal  to 
the  proof  of  a  proposition  of  Euclid  ;  and  that  in  con- 
sequence they  and  we  are  all  bound  to  suspend  our 
judgment  about  such  a  fact,  though  it  be  in  an  infi- 
nitesimal degree,  lest  Vv^e  should  seem  not  to  love 
truth  for  truth's  sake.  Having  made  their  protest, 
they  subside  without  scruple  into  that  same  absolute 
assurance  of  only  partially-proved  truths,  which  is 
natural  to  the  illogical  imagination  of  the  multitude. 

3.  It  remains  to  explain  some  conversational  ex- 
pressions, at  first  sight  favorable  to  that  doctrine  of 
degrees  in  assent,  which  I  have  been  combating. 

(i.)  We  often  speak  of  giving  a  modified  and  quali- 
•fied,  or  a  presumptive  and /rzV;^*^ /^<r?>  assent,  or  (as  I 
have  already  said)  a  half-assent  to  opinions  or  facts ; 
but  these  expressions  admit  of  an  easy  explanation. 
Assent,  upon  the  authority  of  others,  is  often,  as  I 
have  noticed,  when  speaking  of  notional  assents,  little 


172      Assent  considered  as  Unconditional. 

more  than  a  profession  or  acquiescence  or  inference, 
not  a  real  acceptance  of  a  proposition.  I  report,  for 
instance,  that  there  was  a  serious  fire  in  the  town  in 
the  past  night ;  and  then  perhaps  I  add,  that  at  least 
the  morning  papers  say  so; — that  is,  I  have  perhaps 
no  doubt  of  the  fact ;  still,  by  referring  to  the  news- 
papers I  imply  that  I  do  not  take  on  mj^self  the  re- 
sponsibility of  the  statement.  In  thus  qualifying  my 
apparent  assent,  I  show  that  it  was  not  a  genuine 
assent  at  all.  In  like  manner  a  prinid  facie  assent  is 
an  assent  to  an  antecedent  probability  of  a  fact,  not  to 
the  fact  itself ;  as  I  might  give  a  prima  facie  assent 
to  the  Plurality  of  worlds  or  to  the  personality  of 
Homer,  without  pledging  myself  to  either  absolutely. 
''  Half-assent,"  of  which  I  spoke  above,  is  an  inclina- 
tion to  assent,  or  again,  an  intention  of  assenting,  when 
certain  difficulties  are  surmounted.  When  vv^e  speak 
without  thought,  assent  has  as  vague  a  meaning  as 
half-assent ;  but  when  we  deliberately  say,  ^'  I  assent," 
we  signify  an  act  of  the  mind  so  definite  as  to  admit 
of  no  change  but  that  of  ceasing  to  be. 

(2.)  And  so,  too,  though  we  sometimes  use  the 
phrase  "  conditional  assent,"  yet  we  only  mean  there- 
by to  say  that  we  will  assent  under  certain  contingen- 
cies. Of  course  we  may,  if  we  please,  include  a 
condition  in  the  proposition  to  Avhich  our  assent  is 
given  ;  and  then,  that  condition  enters  into  the  matter 
of  the  assent,  but  not  into  the  assent  itself.  To  assent 
to  "  If  this  man  is  in  a  consumption,  his  days  are  num- 
bered," is  as  little  a  conditional  assent,  as  to  assent  to 
*'  Of  this  consumptive  patient  the  days  are  numbered," 
which  is  an  equivalent  proposition.  In  such  cases, 
strictly  speaking,  the  assent  is  given  neither  to  ante- 


Simple  Assent,  173 

cedent  nor  consequent  of  the  conditional  proposition, 
but  to  their  connexion,  that  is,  to  the  enthymematic 
inferentia.  If  we  make  the  condition  external  to  the 
proposition,  then  the  assent  will  be  given  to  "  That 
'  his  days  are  numbered  '  is  conditionally  true ;"  and 
of  course  we  can  assent  to  the  conditionality  of  a  pro- 
position as  well  as  to  its  probability.  Or  again,  if  so 
be,  v/e  may  give  our  assent  not  only  to  the  inferentia 
in  a  complex  conditional  proposition,  but  to  each  of 
the  simple  propositions,  of  which  it  is  made  up,  be- 
sides. "  There  will  be  a  storm  soon,  for  the  mercury 
falls  ;" — here,  besides  assenting  to  the  connexion  of 
the  propositions,  we  may  assent  also  to  ''  The  mercury 
falls,"  and  to  ''There  will  be  a  storm."  This  is  assent- 
ing to  the  premiss,  inferentia^  and  thing  inferred,  all 
at  once  ; — we  assent  to  the  Vv^hole  syllogism,  and  to 
its  component  parts. 

(3.)  In  like  manner  are  to  be  explained  the  phrases, 
"deliberate  assent,"  a  "rational  assent;"  a  "  sudden," 
"  impulsive,"  or  "  hesitating  "  assent.  These  expres- 
sions denote,  not  kinds  or  qualities,  but  the  circum- 
stances of  assenting.  A  deliberate  assent  is  an  assent 
following  upon  deliberation.  It  is  sometimes  called 
a  conviction,  a  word  which  comm.only  includes  in  its 
meaning  two  acts,  both  the  act  of  inference,  and  the 
act  of  assent  consequent  upon  the  inference.  This 
subject  will  be  considered  in  the  next  Section.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  hesitating  assent  is  an  assent  to 
which  we  have  been  slow  and  intermittent  in  coming  ; 
or  an  assent  which,  v\dien  given,  is  thwarted  and  ob- 
scured by  external  and  flitting  misgivings,  though  not 
such  as  to  enter  into  the  act  itself,  or  essentially  to 
damage  it. 


174      Assejit  considered  as   UnconditmtaL 

There  is  another  sense  in  which  we  speak  of  a  hesi- 
tating or  uncertain  assent;  viz.  when  we  assent  in 
act,  but  not  in  the  habit  of  our  minds.  Till  assent  to 
a  doctrine  or  fact  is  my  habit,  I  am  at  the  mercy  of 
inferences  contrary  to  it ;  I  assent  to-day,  and  give 
up  my  belief,  or  incline  to  disbelief,  to-morrow.  I 
may  find  it  my  duty,  for  instance,  after  the  opportu- 
nity of  careful  inquiry  and  inference,  to  assent  to 
another's  innocence,  whom  I  have  for  years  consid- 
ered guilty  ;  but  from  long  prejudice  I  may  be  unable 
to  carry  my  new  assent  well  about  me,  and  may  every 
now  and  then  relapse  into  momentary  though  ts  inju  - 
rious  to  him. 

(4.)  A  more  plausible  objection  to  the  absolute 
absence  of  all  doubt  or  misgiving  in  an  act  of  assent 
is  found  in  the  use  of  the  terms  firm  and  weak  assent, 
or  the  growth  of  belief  and  trust.  Thus,  we  assent 
to  the  events  of  history,  but  not  with  that  fulness  and 
force  of  adherence  to  the  received  account  of  them 
with  which  vv^e  realize  a  record  of  occurrences  which 
are  within  our  own  memory.  And  again,  we  assent 
to  the  praise  bestowed  on  a  friend's  good  qualities 
with  an  energy  which  we  do  not  feel,  when  we  are 
speaking  of  virtue  in  the  abstract :  and  if  we  are  po- 
litical partisans,  our  assent  is  very  cold,  when  we 
cannot  refuse  it,  to  representations  made  in  favor  of 
the  wisdom  or  patriotism  of  statesmen  whom  we  dis- 
like. And  then  as  to  religious  subjects  we  speak  of 
strong  faith  and  feeble  faith  ;  of  the  faith  which  would 
move  mountains,  and  of  the  ordinary  faith  ''  without 
which  it  is  impossible  to  please  God."  And  as  we 
can  grow  in  graces,  so  surely  can  we  inclusively  in 
faith.     Ag-ain  we  rise  from  one  work  of  Christian  evi- 


Simple  Assent  175 

dences  with  our  faith  enlivened  and  invigorated ;  from 
another  perhaps  with  the  distracted  father's  words  in 
our  mouth,  '^  I  beheve,  help  my  unbelief." 

Now  it  is  evident,  first  of  all,  that  habits  of  mind 
may  grow,  as  being  a  something  permanent  and  con- 
tinuous ;  and  by  assent  growing,  it  is  often  only  meant 
that  the  habit  grows  and  has  greater  hold  upon  the 
mind. 

But  again,  when  we  carefully  consider  the  matter, 
it  will  be  found  that  this  increase  or  decrease  of 
strength  does  not  lie  in  the  assent  itself,  but  in  its  cir- 
cumstances and  concomitants;  for  instance,  in  the 
emotions,  in  the  ratiocinative  faculty,  or  in  the  imagi- 
nation. 

For  instance,  as  to  the  emotions,  this  strength  of 
assent  may  be  nothing  more  than  the  strength  of  love, 
hatred,  interest,  desire,  or  fear,  which  the  object  of 
the  assent  elicits,  and  this  is  especially  the  case  when 
that  object  is  of  a  religious  nature.  Such  strength  is 
adventitious  and  accidental;  it  may  come,  it  may  go; 
it  is  found  in  one  man,  not  in  another;  it  does  not  in- 
terfere with  the  genuineness  and  perfection  of  the  act 
of  assent.  Balaam  assented  to  the  fact  of  his  own  in- 
tercourse with  the  supernatural,  as  well  as  Moses; 
but,  to  use  religious  language,  he  had  light  without 
love ;  his  intellect  was  clear,  his  heart  was  cold. 
Hence  his  faith  would  popularly  be  considered  want- 
ing in  strength.  On  the  other  hand,  prejudice  im- 
plies strong  assents  to  the  disadvantage  of  its  object; 
that  is,  it  encourages  such  assents,  and  guards  them 
from  the  chance  of  being  lost. 

Again,  when  a  conclusion  is  recommended  to  us  by 
the  number  and  urgency  of  the  arguments  in  proof  of 


176      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

it,  our  recognition  of  them  invests  it  with  a  luminous- 
ness,  which  in  one  sense  adds  strength  to  our  assent 
to  it,  as  it  certainly  does  protect  and  embolden  that 
assent.  Thus  we  assent  to  a  review  of  recent  events, 
which  we  have  studied  from  original  documents, 
with  a  triumphant  peremptoriness  which  it  neither 
occurs  to  us,  nor  is  possible  for  us,  to  exercise,  Y\^hen 
we  make  an  act  of  assent  to  the  assassination  of  Julius 
Csesar,  or  to  the  existence  of  the  Abipones,  though 
we  are  as  securely  certain  of  these  latter  facts  as  of 
the  doings  and  occurrences  of  yesterday. 

And  further,  all  that  I  have  said  about  the  appre- 
hension of  propositions  is  in  point  here.  We  may 
speak  of  assent  in  our  Lord's  divinity  as  strong  or 
feeble,  according  as  it  is  given  to  the  reality  as  im- 
pressed upon  the  imagination,  or  to  the  notion  of  it 
as  entertained  by  the  intellect. 

(5.)  Nor,  lastly,  does  this  doctrine  of  the  intrinsic 
integrity  and  indivisibility  (if  I  may  so  speak)  of  as- 
sent interfere  with  the  teaching  of  Catholic  theology 
as  to  the  pre-eminence  of  strength  in  divine  faith, 
which  has  a  supernatural  origin,  when  compared 
with  all  belief  which  is  merely  human  and  natu- 
ral. For  first,  that  pre-eminence  consists,  not  in  its 
differing  from  human  faith,  merely  in  degree  of  as- 
sent, but  in  its  being  superior  in  nature  and  kind,^  so 
that  the  one  does  not  admit  of  a  comparison  with  the 
other ;  and  next,  its  intrinsic  superiority  is  not  a  mat- 

-^  "  Supernaturalis  mentis  assensus,  rebus  fidei  exhibitus,  cum  prac- 
cipue  dependeat  a  gratia  Dei  intrinsecus  mentem  illuminante  ct  com- 
movente,  potest  esse,  et  est,  major  quocunque  assensu  cerlitudini 
naturali  prsestito,  seu  ex  motivis  naturalibus  orto,"  etc. — Dmouski, 
Instit.  t.  i.  p.  28. 


Simple  Assent.  I'jj 

ter  of  experience,  but  is  above  experience.^  Assent 
is  ever  assent  ;t  but  in  the  assent  which  follows  on  a 
divine  announcement,  and  is  vivified  by  a  divine 
grace,  there  is,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  a  tran- 
scendent adhesion  of  mind,  intellectual  and  moral, 
and  a  special  self-protection,:}:  beyond  the  operation 
of  those  ordinary  laws  of  thought,  which  alone  have 
a  place  in  my  discussion. 

*  "  Hoc  [viz.  multo  certior  est  homo  de  eo  quod  audit  a  Deo  qui 
falli  non  potest,  quam  de  eo  quod  videt  propria  ratione  qua  falli  po- 
test] intelligendum  est  de  certitudine  fidei  secundum  appretiationem, 
non  secundum  intentionem  ;  nam  saspe  contingit,  ut  scientia  clarius 
percipiatur  ab  intellectu,  atque  ut  connexio  scientise  cum  veritate 
magis  appaveat,  quam  connexio  fidei  cum  eadem  ;  cognitiones  enim 
naturales,  utpote  captui  nostro  accommodatse,  magis  animum  quie- 
tant,  delectant,  et  veluti  satiant." — Scavini,  Theol.  Moral,  t.  ii.  p.  428. 

"  Suppono  enim,  veritatem  fidei  non  esse  certiorem  veritate  meta- 
physica  aut  geometrica  quoad  modum  assensionis,  sed  tantum  quoad 
modum  adhaesionis ;  quia  utrinque  intellectus  absolute  sine  modo 
limitante  assentitur.  Sola  autem  adhsesio  voluntatis  diversa  est  ; 
quia  in  actu  fidei  gratia  seu  habitus  infusus  roborat  intellectum  et 
voluntatem,  ne  tam  facile  mutentur  aut  perturbentur." — Amort,  Theol. 
t.  i.  p.  312. 

\  "  Hsec  distinctio  certitudinis  [ex  diversitate  motivorum]  extrinse- 
cam  tantum  differentiam  importat,  cum  omnis  naturalis  certitudo,  for- 
maliter  spectata,  sit  aequalis  ;  debet  enim  essentialiter  erroris  princi- 
pium  amovere,  exclusio  autem  periculi  erroris  in  indivisibili  consistit ; 
aut  enim  habetur  aut  non  habetur." — Dmouski,  ibid.  p.  27. 

X  "  Fides  est  certior  omni  veritate  naturali,  etiam  geometrice  aut 
metaphysice  certa  ;  idque  non  solum  certitudine  adhsesionis  sed  etiam 
assentionis.  .  .  .  Intellectus  sentit  se  in  multis  veritatibus  etiam 
metaphysice  certis  posse  per  objectiones  perturbari,  e.  g.  si  legat  scep- 
ticos.  .  .  .  E  contra  circa  ea,  quae  constat  esse  revelata  a  Deo, 
nullus  potest  perturbari."— Amort,  ibid.  p.  367. 


178      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 


§  2.  Complex  Assent. 

I  HAVE  been  considering  assent  as  the  mental  asser- 
tion of  an  intelligible  proposition,  as  an  act  of  the 
intellect  direct,  absolute,  complete  in  itself,  uncondi- 
tional, arbitrary,  yet  without  refusing  the  appeal  to 
argument,  and  at  least  in  many  cases  exercised  uncon- 
sciously. On  this  last  characteristic  of  assent  I  have 
not  dwelt,  as  it  has  not  come  in  my  way ;  nor  is  it 
more  than  an  accident  of  acts  of  assent,  though  an 
ordinary  accident.  That  it  is  of  ordinary  occurrence 
cannot  be  doubted.  A  great  many  of  our  assents  are 
merely  expressions  of  our  personal  hkings,  tastes, 
principles,  motives,  and  opinions,  as  dictated  by 
nature,  or  resulting  from  habit ;  in  other  words,  they 
are  acts  and  manifestations  of  self:  now  v/hat  is  more 
rare  than  self-knowledge?  In  proportion  then  to 
our  ignorance  of  self,  is  our  unconsciousness  of  those 
innumerable  acts  of  assent,  which  we  are  incessantly 
making.  And  so  again  in  what  may  be  almost  called 
the  mechanical  operation  of  our  minds,  in  our  con- 
tinual acts  of  apprehension  and  inference,  speculation 
and  resolve,  propositions  pass  before  us  and  receive 
our  assent  without  our  consciousness.  Hence  it  is 
that  we  are  so  apt  to  confuse  together  acts  of  assent 


Complex  Assent.  179 

and  acts  of  inference.  Indeed,  I  may  fairly  say,  that 
those  assents  which  we  give  with  a  direct  knowledge 
of  what  we  are  doing,  are  few  compared  with  the 
multitude  of  like  acts  which  pass  through  our  minds 
in  long  succession  without  our  observing  them. 

That  mode  of  assent  which  includes  this  uncon- 
scious exercise,  I  may  call  simple  assent,  and  of  it  I 
have  treated  in  the  foregoing  Section ;  but  now  I  am 
going  to  speak  of  such  assents  as  must  be  made  con- 
sciously and  deliberately,  and  which  I  shall  call  com- 
plex or  reflex  assents.  And  I  begin  by  recaUing  what 
I  have  already  stated  about  the  relation  in  which 
Assent  and  Inference  stand  to  each  other, — inference, 
which  holds  propositions  conditionally,  and  assent, 
which  unconditionally  accepts  them  ;  the  relation  is 
this  :— 

Acts  of  inference  are  both  the  antecedents  of  assent 
before  assenting,  and  its  usual  concomitants  after 
assenting.  For  instance,  I  hold  absolutely  that  the 
country  which  v/e  call  India  exists,  upon  trustworthy 
testimony ;  and  next,  I  may  continue  to  believe  it, 
on  the  same  testimony.  In  like  manner,  I  have  ever 
believed  that  Great  Britain  is  an  island,  for  cer- 
tain sufficient  reasons ;  and  on  the  same  reasons 
I  may  persist  in  the  belief.  But  it  may  happen 
that  I  forget  my  reasons  for  wdiat  I  believe  to  be 
so  absolutely  true ;  or  I  may  never  have  asked 
myself  about  them,  or  formally  marshalled  them  in 
order,  and  have  been  accustomed  to  assent  without 
a  recognition  of  my  assent  or  of  its  grounds,  and  then 
perhaps  something  occurs  which  leads  to  my  review- 
ing and  completing  those  grounds,  analyzing  and 
arranging  them,  yet  without  on  that  account  imply- 


i8o      Assent  considered  as  Unconditional. 

ing  of  necessity  any  suspense,  ever  so  slight,  of 
assent,  to  the  proposition  that  India  is  in  a  certain 
part  of  the  earth,  and  that  Great  Britain  is  an  island. 
With  no  suspense  of  assent  at  all ;  any  more  than  the 
boy  in  my  former  illustration  had  any  doubt  about 
the  answer  set  down  in  his  arithmetic-book,  when  he 
began  working  out  the  question ;  any  m.ore  than  he 
would  be  doubting  his  eyes  and  his  common  sense, 
that  the  two  sides  of  a  triangle  are  together  greater 
than  the  third,  because  he  drew  out  the  geometrical 
proof  of  it.  He  does  but  repeat,  after  his  formal 
demonstration,  that  assent  which  he  made  before  it, 
or  assents  to  his  previous  assenting.  This  is  what  I 
call  a  reflex  or  complex  assent. 

I  sa}^,  there  is  no  necessary  incompatibility  between 
thus  assenting  and  yet  proving, — for  the  conclusive- 
ness of  a  proposition  is  not  synonymous  with  its 
truth.  A  proposition  may  be  true,  yet  not  admit  of 
being  concluded  ; — it  may  be  a  conclusion  and  yet  not 
a  truth.  To  contemplate  it  under  one  aspect,  is  not 
to  contemplate  it  under  another ;  and  the  two  as- 
pects may  be  consistent,  from  the  very  fact  that 
they  are  two.  Therefore  to  set  about  concluding 
a  proposition  is  not  ipso  facto  to  doubt  its  truth ; 
we  may  aim  at  inferring  a  proposition,  while  all  the 
time  we  assent  to  it.  We  have  to  do  this  as  a  com- 
mon occurrence,  when  we  take  on  ourselves  to 
convince  another  on  any  point  in  which  he  differs 
from  us.  We  do  not  deny  our  faith,  because  Ave  be- 
come controversialists;  and  in  like  manner  we  may 
employ  ourselves  in  proving  what  we  believe  to  be 
true,  simply  in  order  to  ascertain  the  producible  evi- 
dence in  its  favor,  and  in  order  to  fulfil  what  is  due 


Complex  Assent  i8i 

to  ourselves  and  to  the  claims  and  responsibilities  of 
our  education  and  social  position. 

I  have  been  speaking  of  investigation,  not  of  in- 
quiry ;  it  is  quite  true  that  inquiry  is  inconsistent 
with  assent,  but  inquiry  is  something  more  than  the 
mere  exercise  of  inference.  He  who  inquires  has  not 
found  ;  he  is  in  doubt  where  the  truth  lies,  and  wishes 
his  present  profession  either  proved  or  disproved. 
We  cannot  without  absurdit}^  call  ourselves  at  once 
believers  and  inquirers  also.  Thus  it  is  sometimes 
spoken  of  as  a  hardship  that  a  Catholic  is  not  allowed 
to  inquire  into  the  truth  of  his  Creed  ; — of  course  he 
cannot,  if  he  would  retain  the  name  of  believer.  He 
cannot  be  both  inside  and  outside  the  Church  at  once. 
It  is  merely  common  sense  to  tell  him  that,  if  he  is 
seeking,  he  has  not  found.  If  seeking  includes  doubt- 
ing, and  doubting  excludes  believing,  then  the  Catho- 
lic who  sets  about  inquiring,  thereby  declares  that 
he  is  not  a  Catholic.  He  has  already  lost  faith.  And 
this  is  his  best  defence  to  himself  for  inquiring,  viz.  that 
he  is  no  longer  a  Catholic,  and  wishes  to  become  one. 
They  who  would  forbid  him  to  inquire,  would  in  that 
case  be  shutting  the  stable-door  after  the  steed  is 
stolen.  What  can  he  do  better  than  inquire  if  he 
is  in  doubt  ?  how  else  can  he  become  a  Catholic 
again  ?  Not  to  inquire  is  in  his  case  to  be  satisfied 
with  disbelief. 

However,  in  thus  speaking,  I  am  viewing  the 
matter  in  the  abstract,  and  without  allowing  for  the 
manifold  inconsistencies  of  individuals,  as  they  are 
found  in  the  world,  who  attempt  to  unite  incompati- 
bilities ;  who  do  not  doubt,  but  who  act  as  if  they 
did  ;  who,  though  they  believe,  are  weak   in  faith  . 


1 82      Assent  considered  as  Unconditional, 

and  put  themselves  in  the  way  of  losing  it  by  unne- 
cessarily listening  to  objections.  Moreover,  there 
are  minds,  undoubtedly,  with  whom  at  all  times  to 
question  a  truth  is  to  make  it  questionable,  and  to 
investigate  is  to  inquire ;  and  again,  there  may  be 
beliefs  so  sacred  or  so  delicate,  that,  if  I  may  use  the 
metaphor,  they  will  not  wash  without  shrinking  and 
losing  color.  I  grant  all  this  ;  but  here  I  am  discuss- 
ing broad  principles,  not  individual  cases ;  and  these 
principles  are,  that  inquiry  implies  doubt,  and  that 
investigation  does  not  imply  it,  and  that  those  who 
assent  to  a  doctrine  or  fact  may  without  inconsistency 
investigate  its  credibility,  though  they  literally  can- 
not inquire  about  its  truth. 

Next,  I  consider  that,  in  the  case  of  educated 
minds,  investigations  into  the  argumentative  proof  of 
the  things  to  which  they  have  given  their  assent,  is 
an  obligation,  or  rather  a  necessity.  Such  a  trial  of 
their  intellects  is  a  law  of  their  nature,  like  the  growth 
of  childhood  into  manhood,  and  analogous  to  the 
moral  ordeal  which  is  the  instrument  of  their  spiritual 
life.  The  lessons  of  right  and  wrong,  which  are 
taught  them  at  school,  are  to  be  carried  out  into 
action  amid  the  good  and  evil  of  the  world  ;  and  the 
intellectual  assents,  in  which  they  have  in  hke  manner 
been  instructed  from  the  first,  have  also  to  be  tested, 
realized,  and  developed  by  the  exercise  of  their 
mature  judgment. 

Certainly,  such  processes  of  investigation,  whether 
in  religious  subjects  or  secular,  often  issue  in  the  re- 
versal of  the  assents  which  they  were  originally  in- 
tended to  confirm  ;  as  the  boy  who  works  out  an 
arithmetical   problem    from    his    book   may   end    in 


Coi?iplex  Assent.  183 

detecting,  or  thinking  he  detects,  a  false  print  in  the 
answer.  But  the  question  before  us  is  whether  acts 
of  assent  and  of  inference  are  compatible  ;  and  my 
vague  consciousness  of  the  possibility  of  a  reversal  of 
my  belief  by  the  course  of  my  researches,  as  little 
interferes  with  the  honesty  and  firmness  of  that  belief 
while  those  researches  proceed,  as  the  recognition  of 
the  possibility  of  my  train's  oversetting  is  an  evidence 
of  an  intention  on  my  part  of  undergoing  so  great  a 
calamity.  My  mind  is  not  moved  by  a  scientific 
computation  of  chances,  nor  can  any  law  of  averages 
affect  my  particular  case.  To  incur  a  risk  is  not  to 
expect  reverse  ;  and  if  my  opinions  are  true,  I  have  a 
right  to  think  that  they  will  bear  examining.  Nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  does  belief,  viewed  in  its  idea, 
imply  a  positive  resolution  in  the  party  believing 
never  to  abandon  that  belief.  What  belief,  as  such, 
does  imply  is,  not  an  intention  never  to  change,  but 
the  utter  absence  of  all  thought,  or  expectation,  or 
fear  of  changing.  A  spontaneous  resolution  never  to 
change  is  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  belief ;  for  the 
very  force  and  absoluteness  of  the  act  of  assent  pre- 
cludes any  such  resolution.  We  do  not  commonly 
determine  not  to  do  what  we  cannot  fancy  ourselves 
ever  doing.  We  should  readily  indeed  make  such  a 
formal  promise  if  we  were  called  upon  to  do  so  ;  for, 
since  we  have  the  truth,  and  truth  cannot  change, 
how  can  we  possibly  change  in  our  belief,  except  in- 
deed throusfh  our  own  weakness  or  fickleness  ?  We 
have  no  intention  whatever  of  being  w^eak  or  fickle  ; 
so  our  promise  is  but  the  natural  guarantee  of  our 
sincerity.  It  is  possible  then,  without  disloyalty  to 
our  convictions,  to  examine  their  grounds,  even  though 


184      Assent  considered  as   Unconditio7ial. 

they  are  to  fail  under  the  examination,  for  we  have  no 
suspicion  of  this  failure. 

And  such  examination,  as  I  have  said,  does  but 
fulfil  a  law  of  our  nature.  Our  first  assents,  right  or 
wrong,  are  often  little  more  than  prejudices.  The 
reasonings,  which  precede  and  accompany  them, 
though  sufficient  for  their  purpose,  do  not  rise  up  to 
the  importance  and  energy  of  the  assents  themselves. 
As  time  goes  on,  by  degrees  and  without  set  purpose, 
by  reflection  and  experience,  we  begin  to  confirm  or 
to  correct  the  notions  and  the  images  to  which  those 
assents  are  given.  At  times  it  is  a  necessity  formally 
to  undertake  a  survey  and  revision  of  this  or  that 
class  of  them,  of  those  which  relate  to  religion,  or  to 
social  duty,  or  to  politics,  or  to  the  conduct  of  Hfe. 
Sometimes  this  review  begins  in  doubt  as  to  the  mat- 
ters Avhich  we  propose  to  consider,  that  is,  in  a  sus- 
pension of  the  assents  hitherto  familiar  to  us ;  some- 
times those  assents  are  too  strong  to  allow  of  being 
lost  on  the  first  stirring  of  the  inquisitive  intellect, 
and  if,  as  time  goes  on,  they  give  way,  our  change  of 
mind,  be  it  for  good  or  for  evil,  is  owing  to  the  accu- 
mulating force  of  the  arguments,  sound  or  unsound, 
which  bear  down  upon  the  propositions  which  we 
have  hitherto  received.  Objections,  indeed,  as  such, 
have  no  direct  force  to  weaken  assent;  but,  when 
they  multipty,  they  tell  against  the  implicit  reason- 
ings or  the  formal  inferences  which  are  its  warrant, 
and  suspend  its  acts  and  gradually  undermine  its 
habit.  Then  the  assent  goes  ;  but  whether  slowly  or 
suddenly,  noticeably  or  imperceptibly,  is  a  matter  of 
circumstance  or  accident.  However,  whether  the 
original  assent  is  continued  or  not,  the  new  assent 


Complex  Assent,  185 

differs  from  the  old  in  this,  that  it  has  the  strength  of 
explicitness  and  deliberation,  that  it  is  not  a  mere 
prejudice,  and  its  strength  the  strength  of  prejudice. 
It  is  an  assent,  not  only  to  a  given  proposition,  but 
to  the  claim  of  that  proposition  on  our  assent  as  true  ; 
it  is  an  assent  to  an  assent,  or  what  is  commonly 
called  a  conviction. 

Of  course  these  reflex  acts  may  be  repeated  in  a 
series.  As  I  pronounce  that  ''  Great  Britain  is  an 
island,"  and  then  pronounce  "  That  '  Great  Britain  is 
an  island '  has  a  claim  on  my  assent,"  or  is  to  ''  be 
assented  to,"  or  to  be  ''  accepted  as  true,"  or  to  be 
''believed,"  or  simply  "is  true"  (these  predicates 
being  equivalent),  so  I  may  proceed,  "  The  proposi- 
tion '  that  Grcat-Britain-is-an-island  is  to  be  believed,' 
is  to  be  believed,"  etc.,  etc.,  and  so  on  to  infinitum. 
But  this  would  be  trifling.  The  mind  is  like  a  double 
mirror,  in  which  reflexions  of  self  within  self  multiply 
themselves  till  they  are  undistinguishable,  and  the 
first  reflexion  contains  all  the  rest.  At  the  same  time, 
it  is  worth  while  to  notice  two  other  reflex  proposi- 
tions : — "  That  '  Great  Britain  is  an  island  '  is  pro- 
bable "  is  true ; — and  "  That  '  Great  Britain  is  an 
island  '  is  uncertain  "  is  true  :  for  the  former  of  these 
is  the  expression  of  Opinion,  and  the  latter  of  formal 
or  theological  Doubt,  as  I  have  already  deter- 
mined. 

I  have  one  step  farther  to  make : — let  the  proposi- 
tion to  which  the  assent  is  given  be  as  absolutely  true 
as  the  reflex  act  pronounces  it  to  be,  that  is,  objec- 
tively true  as  well  as  subjectively,  then  the  assent 
may  be  called  a  perception,  the  conviction  a  certitiide, 
the  proposition  or  truth  a  certainty,  or  thing  known, 


1 86     u^ssent  co7isidered  as  Unco7tdiiional. 

or  a  matter  of  knozvledge^  and  to  assent  to  it  is  to 
kriozv. 

Of  course,  in  thus  speaking-,  I  open  the  all-impor- 
tant question,  what  is  truth,  and  Vvdiat  apparent  truth  ? 
what  is  genuine  knowledge,  and  what  is  its  counterfeit  ? 
what  are  the  tests  for  discriminating  certitude  from 
mere  persuasion  or  delusion  ?    Whatever  a  man  holds 
to   be  true,    he   will  say  he  holds  for  certain ;    and 
for  the  present  I  must  allow  him  in  his  assumption, 
hoping  in  one  way  or  another,  as  I  proceed,  to  lessen 
the  difficulties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  calling  him  to 
account  for  so  doing.     And  I  have  the  less  scruple  in 
taking  this  course,  as  believing  that,   among  fairly 
prudent  and  circumspect  men,  there  are  far  fewer 
instances  of  false  certitude  than  at  first  sight  might  be 
supposed.    Men  are  often  doubtful  about  propositions 
which  are  really  true ;    they  are  not  commonly  cer- 
tain of  such  as  are  simply  false.     What  they  judge  to 
be  a  certainty  is  for  the  most  part  a  truth.     Not  that 
there  is  not  a  great  deal  of  rash  talking  even  among 
the  educated  portion  of  the  community,  and  many  a 
man  makes  professions  of  certitude,  for  which  he  has 
no  w^arrant ;    but  that  such  off-hand,  confident   lan- 
guage is  no  token  how  these  persons  will    express 
themselves  when  brought  to  book.    No  one  will  Avith 
justice  consider  himself  certain  of  any  matter,  unless 
he  has  sufficient  reasons  for  so  considering ;  and  it  is 
rare  that  what  is  not  true  should  be  so  free  from 
every  circumstance  and  token  of  falsity  as  to  create 
no  suspicion  in  his  mind  to  its  disadvantage,  no  rea- 
son for  suspense  of  judgment.      However,  I    shall 
have  to  remark  on  this  difficulty  b}'  and  by  ;  here  I 
will  mention  two   conditions  of  certitude,  in    close 


Co7itplex  Assent  187 

connextion  with  that  necessary  preliminary  of  inves- 
tigation and  proof  of  which  I  have  been  speaking, 
which  will  throw  some  light  upon  it.  The  one,  which 
is  a  priori,  or  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  will  tell  us 
what  is  not  certitude  ;  the  other,  which  is  a  posteriori, 
or  from  experience,  will  tell  us  in  a  measure  what 
certitude  is. 

I.  Certitude,  as  I  have  said,  is  the  perception  of  a 
truth  with  the  perception  that  it  is  a  truth,  or  the 
consciousness  of  knowing,  as  expressed  in  the  phrase, 
"  I  know  that  I  know,"  or  ''  I  know  that  I  know  that 
I  know,"  or  simply  ''  I  know  ;"  for  one  reflex  asser- 
tion of  the  mind  about  self  sums  up  the  series  of  self- 
consciousnesses  without  the  need  of  any  actual  evolu- 
tion of  them. 

Certitude  is  the  knowledge  of  a  truth  : — but  what 
is  once  true  is  always  true,  and  cannot  fail,  whereas 
what  is  once  known  need  not  always  be  known,  and 
is  capable  of  failing.  It  follows,  that  if  I  am  certain 
of  a  thing,  I  believe  it  will  remain  what  I  now  hold 
it  to  be,  even  though  my  mind  should  have  the 
bad  fortune  to  let  it  drop.  Since  mere  argument  is 
not  the  measure  of  assent,  no  one  can  be  called  cer- 
tain of  a  proposition,  whose  mind  does  not  sponta- 
neously and  promptly  reject,  on  their  first  suggestion, 
as  idle,  as  impertinent,  as  sophistical,  any  objections 
which  are  directed  against  its  truth.  No  man  is  cer- 
tain of  a  truth,  who  can  endure  the  thought  of  the 
fact  of  its  contradictory  existing  or  occurring  ;  and 
that  not  from  any  set  purpose  or  effort  to  reject  it. 
but,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  spontaneous  action  of  the 
intellect.     What  is  contradictory  to  it,  with  its  appa- 


1 88      Asse7it  considered  as   UnconditionaL 

ratus  of  argument,  fades  out  of  the  mind  as  fast  as  it 
enters  it ;  and  though  it  be  brought  back  to  it  ever  so 
often  by  the  pertinacity  of  an  opponent,  or  by  a  vol- 
untary or  involuntary  act  of  imagination,  still  that 
contradictory  proposition  and  its  arguments  are  mere 
phantoms  and  dreams,  in  the  light  of  our  certitude, 
and  their  very  entering  into  the  mind  is  the  first  step 
of  their  going  out  of  it.  Such  is  the  position  of  our 
minds  towards  the  heathen  fancy  that  Enceladus  Hes- 
under  Etna ;  or,  not  to  take  so  extreme  a  case,  that 
Joanna  Southcote  was  a  messenger  from  heaven,  or 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  really  had  a  star.  Equal  to 
this  peremptory  assertion  of  negative  propositions  is 
the  revolt  of  the  mind  from  suppositions  incompati- 
ble with  positive  statements  of  which  we  are  certain, 
whether  abstract  truths  or  facts ;  as  that  a  straight 
line  is  the  longest  possible  distance  between  its  two 
extreme  points,  that  Great  Britain  is  in  shape  an  exact 
square  or  circle,  that  I  shall  escape  dying,  or  that  my 
intimate  friend  is  false  to  me. 

We  may  indeed  say,  if  we  please,  that  a  man  ought 
not  to  have  so  supreme  a  conviction  in  a  given  case, 
or  in  any  case  whatever  ;  and  that  he  is  therefore 
wrong  in  treating  opinions  which  he  does  not  him- 
self hold,  with  this  even  involuntary  contempt  ;— 
certainly,  we  have  a  right  to  say  so,  if  we  will ;  but 
if,  in  matter  of  fact,  a  man  has  such  a  conviction,  if 
he  is  sure  that  Ireland  is  to  the  West  of  England,  or 
that  the  Pope  is  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  nothing  is  left  to 
him,  if  he  would  be  consistent,  but  to  carry  his  con- 
viction out  into  this  magisterial  intolerance  of  any 
contrary  assertion;  and  if  he  were  in  his  own  mind 
tolerant,  I  do  not  say  patient  (for  patience  and  gen- 


Complex  Assent  189 

tleness  are  moral  duties,  but  I  mean  intellectually 
tolerant),  of  objections  as  objections,  he  would  virtu- 
ally be  giving  countenance  to  the  views  which  those 
objections  represented.  I  say  I  certainly  should  be 
very  intolerant  of  such  a  notion  as  that  I  shall  one 
day  be  Emperor  of  the  French ;  I  should  think  it  too 
absurd  even  to  be  ridiculous,  and  that  I  must  be  mad 
before  I  could  entertain  it.  And  did  a  man  try  to 
persuade  me  that  treachery,  cruelty,  or  ingratitude 
were  as  praiseworthy  as  honesty  and  temperance, 
and  that  a  man  who  lived  the  life  of  a  knave  and  died 
the  death  of  a  brute  had  nothing  to  fear  from  future 
retribution,  I  should  think  there  was  no  call  on  me 
to  hsten  to  his  arguments,  except  with  the  hope  of 
converting  him,  though  he  called  me  a  bigot  and  a 
coward  for  refusing  to  inquire  into  his  speculations. 
And  if,  in  a  matter  in  which  my  temporal  interests 
were  concerned,  he  attempted  to  reconcile  me  to 
fraudulent  acts  by  what  he  called  philosophical  views, 
I  should  say  to  him,  "  Retro  Satana,"  and  that,  not 
from  any  suspicion  of  his  ability  to  reverse  immutable 
principles,  but  from  a  consciousness  of  my  own  moral 
changeableness,  and  a  fear,  on  that  account,  that  I 
might  not  be  intellectually  true  to  the  truth.  This, 
then,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  is  a  main  character- 
istic of  certitude  in  any  matter,  to  be  confident  indeed 
that  that  certitude  will  last,  but  to  be  confident  of 
this  also,  that,  if  it  did  fail,  nevertheless,  the  thing 
itself,  whatever  it  is,  of  which  we  are  certain,  will 
remain  just  as  it  is,  true  and  irreversible.  If  this  be 
so,  it  is  easy  to  instance  cases  of  an  adherence  to  pro- 
positions, which  does  not  fulfil  the  conditions  of 
certitude  ;  for  instance  : — 


igo      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional, 

(i.)  How  positive  and  circumstantial  disputants 
may  be  on  both  sides  of  a  question  of  fact,  on  which 
they  give  their  evidence,  till  they  are  called  to  swear 
to  it,  and  then  hov/  guarded  and  conditional  their 
testimony  becomes  !  Again,  how  confident  are  they 
m  their  rival  accounts  of  a  transaction  at  which .  they 
were  present,  till  a  third  person  makes  his  appearance, 
whose  word  will  be  decisive  about  it!  Then  they 
suddenly  drop  their  tone,  and  trim  their  statements, 
and  by  provisos  and  explanations  leave  themselves 
loopholes  for  escape,  in  case  his  testimony  should  be 
to  their  disadvantage.  At  first  no  language  could 
be  too  bold  or  absolute  to  express  the  distinct- 
ness of  their  knowledge  on  this  side  or  that ;  but 
second  thoughts  are  best,  and  their  giving  ground 
shows  that  their  belief  does  not  come  up  to  the  mark 
of  certitude. 

(2.)  Again,  can  we  doubt  that  many  a  confident 
expounder  of  Scripture,  who  is  so  sure  that  St.  Paul 
meant  this,  and  that  St.  John  and  St.  James  did  not 
mean  that,  would  be  seriously  disconcerted  at  the 
presence  of  those  Apostles,  if  their  presence  were 
possible,  and  that  they  feel  now  an  especial  ''  bold- 
ness of  speech  "  in  treating  their  subject,  because 
there  is  no  one  authoritatively  to  set  them  right,  if 
they  are  wrong  ? 

(3.)  Take  another  instance,  in  which  the  absence  of 
certitude  is  professed  from  the  first.  Though  it  is  a 
matter  of  faith  with  Catholics  that  miracles  never 
cease  in  the  Church,  still  that  this  or  that  professed 
miracle  really  took  place,  is  for  the  most  part  only  a 
matter  of  opinion,  and  when  it  is  believed,  whether 
on  testimony  or  tradition,  it  is  not  believed  to  the 


Complex  Assent.  191 

exclusion  of  all  doubt,  whether  about  the  fact  or  its 
miraculousness.  Thus  I  may  believe  in  the  liquefac- 
tion of  St.  Pantaleon's  blood,  and  believe  it  to  the 
best  of  my  judgment  to  be  a  miracle,  yet,  supposing 
a  chemist  offered  to  produce  exactly  the  same  phe- 
nomena under  exactly  similar  circumstances  by  the 
materials  put  at  his  command  by  his  science,  so  as  to 
reduce  v/hat  seemed  beyond  nature  within  natural 
laws,  I  should  watch  with  some  suspense  of  mind 
and  misgiving  the  course  of  his  experiment,  as  having 
no  Divine  Word  to  fall  back  upon  as  aground  of  cer- 
tainty that  the  liquefaction  was  miraculous. 

(4.)  Take  another  virtual  exhibition  of  fear ;  I  mean 
irritation  and  impatience  of  contradiction,  vehemence 
of  assertion,  determination  to  silence  others, — these 
are  the  tokens  of  a  mind  which  has  not  yet  attained 
the  tranquil  enjoyment  of  certitude.  No  one,  I  sup- 
pose, would  say  that  he  was  certain  of  the  Plurality 
of  worlds :  that  uncertitude  on  the  subject  is  just  the 
explanation,  and  the  only  explanation  satisfactory  to 
my  mind,  of  the  strange  violence  of  language  which 
has  before  now  dishonored  the  philosophical  contro- 
versy upon  it.  Those  who  are  certain  of  a  fact  are 
indolent  disputants ;  it  is  enough  for  them  that  they 
have  the  truth ;  and  they  have  little  disposition,  ex- 
cept at  the  call  of  duty,  to  criticise  the  hallucinations 
of  others,  and  much  less  are  they  angry  at  their 
positiveness  or  ingenuity  in  argument;  but  to  call 
names,  to  impute  motives,  to  accuse  of  sophistry,  to 
be  impetuous  and  overbearing,  is  the  part  of  men  who 
are  alarmed  for  their  own  position,  and  fear  to  have 
it  approached  too  nearly.  And  in  like  manner  the 
intemperance  of  language  and  of  thought,  which  is 


192      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional, 

sometimes  found  in  converts  to  a  religious  creed,  is 
often  attributed,  not  without  plausibility  (even  though 
erroneously  in  the  particular  case),  to  some  flaw  in 
the  completeness  of  their  certitude,  v»diich  interferes 
with  the  harmony  and  repose  of  their  convictions. 

(5.)  Again,  this  intellectual  anxiety,  which  is  incom- 
patible with  certitude,  shows  itself  in  our  running 
back  in  our  minds  to  the  arguments  on  which  we 
came  to  believe,  in  not  letting  our  conclusions  alone, 
in  going  over  and  strengthening  the  evidence,  and, 
as  it  were,  getting  it  by  heart,  as  if  our  highest  assent 
were  only  an  inference.  And  such  too  is  our  unne- 
cessarily declaring  that  we  are  certain,  as  if  to  reas- 
sure ourselves,  and  our  appealing  to  others  for  their 
suffrage  in  behalf  of  the  truths  of  which  wx  are  so 
sure ;  which  is  like  our  asking  another  whether  we 
are  Aveary  and  hungry,  or  have  eaten  and  drunk  to 
our  satisfaction. 

All  laws  are  general ;  none  are  invariable ;  I  am 
not  writing  as  a  moralist  or  casuist.  It  must  ever  be 
recollected  that  these  various  phenomena  of  mind, 
though  signs,  are  not  infallible  signs  of  uncertitude  ; 
they  may  proceed,  in  the  particular  case,  from  other 
circumstances.  Such  anxieties  and  alarms  may  be 
merely  emotional  and  from  the  imagination,  not  intel- 
lectual ;  parallel  to  the  beating  of  the  heart,  nay,  as  I 
have  been  told,  the  trembling  of  the  limbs  of  even 
the  bravest  men,  before  a  battle,  when  standing  still 
to  receive  the  first  attack  of  the  enemy.  Such  too  is 
that  palpitating  self-interrogation,  that  apprehension 
of  the  mind  lest  it  should  not  believe  strongly  enough, 
which,  and  not  doubt,  I  suppose  underlies  the  sensi- 
bility described  in  the  well-known  lines, — 


Complex  Assent,  193 

"  With  eyes  too  tremblingly  awake, 
To  bear  with  dimness  for  His  sake." 

And  so  again,  a  man's  overearnestness  in  argu- 
ment may  arise  from  zeal  or  charity ;  his  impatience 
from  loyalty  to  the  truth ;  his  extravagance  from 
want  of  taste,  from  enthusiasm,  or  from  youthful 
ardor;  and  his  restless  recurrence  to  argument,  not 
from  personal  disquiet,  but  from  a  vivid  appreciation 
of  the  controversial  talent  of  an  opponent,  or  of  his 
own,  or  of  the  philosophical  difficulties  of  the  subject 
in  dispute.  These  are  points  for  the  consideration  of 
those  who  are  concerned  in  registering  and  explain- 
ing what  may  be  called  the  meteorological  phenomena 
of  the  human  mind,  and  do  not  interfere  with  the 
broad  principle  which  I  would  lay  down,  that  to  fear 
argument  is  to  doubt  the  conclusion,  and  to  be  cer- 
tain of  a  truth  is  to  be  careless  of  objections  to  it ; — 
nor  with  the  practical  rule,  that  assent  is  not  certi- 
tude, and  must  not  be  confused  with  it. 

2.  Now  to  consider  what  Certitude  positively  is, 
as  a  matter  of  experience. 

It  is,  as  a  state  of  mind,  accompanied  by  a  specific 
feeling,  proper  to  it,  and  discriminating  it  from  other 
states,  intellectual  and  moral,  I  do  not  say,  as  its 
practical  test  or  differentia,  but  as  its  token,  and  in  a 
certain  sense  its  form.  When  a  man  says  he  is  certain, 
he  means  he  is  conscious  to  himself  of  having  this 
specific  feeling.  It  is  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  and  self- 
gratulation,  of  intellectual  security,  arising  out  of  a 
sense  of  success,  attainment,  possession,  finality,  as 
regards  the  matter  which  has  been  in  question.  As 
a  conscientious  deed  is  attended  by  a  self-approval 
which  nothing  but  itself  can  create,  so  certitude  is 


194      Assent  considered  as   Unconditional. 

united  to  a  sentiment  siii  generis  in  which  it  lives  and 
is  manifested.  These  two  parallel  sentiments  indeed 
have  no  relationship  with  each  other,  the  enjoyable 
self-repose  of  certitude  being  as  foreign  to  a  good 
deed,  as  the  self-approving  glow  of  conscience  is  to 
the  perception  of  a  truth ;  yet  knowledge,  as  well  as 
virtue,  is  an  end,  and  both  knowledge  and  virtue, 
when  reflected  on,  carry  with  them  respectively 
their  own  reward  in  the  characteristic  sentiment, 
which,  as  I  have  said,  is  proper  to  each.  And,  as 
the  performance  of  what  is  right  is  distinguished 
by  this  religious  peace,  so  the  attainment  of  what  is 
true  is  attested  by  this  intellectual  securit3\ 

And,  as  the  feeling  of  self-approbation,  which  is 
proper  to  good  conduct,  does  not  belong  to  the  sense 
or  to  the  possession  of  the  beautiful  or  of  the  becom- 
ing, of  the  pleasant  or  of  the  useful,  so  neither  is  the 
special  relaxation  and  repose  of  mind,  which  ^  the 
token  of  Certitude,  ever  found  to  attend  upon  simple 
Assent,  on  processes  of  Inference,  or  on  Doubt ;  nor 
on  investigation,  conjecture,  opinion,  as  such,  or  on 
any  other  vState  or  action  of  mind,  besides  certitude. 
On  the  contrary,  those  acts  and  states  of  mind  have 
gratifications  proper  to  themselves,  and  unlike  that  of 
certitude,  as  will  sufficiently  appear  on  considering 
them  separately. 

(i.)  Philosophers  are  fond  of  enlarging  on  the  pleas- 
ures of  Knowledge,  nor  need  I  here  prove  that  such 
pleasures  exist ;  but  the  repose  in  self  and  in  its  object, 
as  connected  with  self,  which  I  attribute  to  certitude, 
does  not  attach  to  mere  knowing,  that  is,  the  percep- 
tion of  things,  but  to  the  consciousness  of  having  that 
knowledge.      The  simple  and  direct  perception  of 


Complex  Assent.  195 

things  has  its  own  great  satisfaction ;  but  it  must  re- 
cognize them  as  realities,,  and  recognize  them  as 
known,  before  it  becomes  the  perception  and  has  the 
satisfaction  of  certitude.  Indeed,  as  far  as  I  see,  the 
pleasure  of  perceiving  truth  without  reflecting  on  it 
as  truth,  is  not  very  different,  except  in  intensity,  from 
the  pleasure,  as  such,  of  assent  or  belief  given  to  what 
is  not  true,  nay,  from  the  pleasure  of  the  mere  passive 
reception  of  propositions  or  narratives,  which  neither 
profess  to  be  true  nor  claim  to  be  believed.  Repre- 
sentations of  any  kind  are  in  their  own  nature  pleasur- 
able, whether -they  be  true  or  not,  whether  they  come 
to  us,  or  do  not  come,  as  true.  We  read  a  history,  or 
a  biographical  notice,  with  pleasure  ;  and  we  read  a 
romance  with  pleasure ;  and  a  pleasure  which  is  quite 
apart  from  the  question  of  fact  or  fiction.  Indeed, 
when  we  Avould  persuade  young  people  to  read  his- 
tory, we  tell  them  that  it  is  as  interesting  as  a  romance 
or  a  novel.  The  mere  acquisition  of  new  images,  and 
those  images  striking,  great,  various,  unexpected, 
beautiful,  with  mutual  relations  and  bearings,  as  being 
parts  of  a  whole,  with  continuity,  succession,  evolu- 
tion, with  recurring  complications  and  corresponding 
solutions,  with  a  crisis  and  a  catastrophe,  is  highly 
pleasurable,  quite  independently  of  the  question  wheth- 
er there  is  any  truth  in  them,  I  am  not  denying  that  we 
should  be  balked  and  disappointed  to  be  told  they 
Avere  all  untrue,  but  this  seems  to  arise  from  the  re 
flection  that  we  have  been  taken  in  ;  not  as  if  the  fact 
of  their  truth  were  a  distinct  element  of  pleasure, 
though  it  would  increase  the  pleasure,  as  investing 
them  with  a  character  of  marvellousness,  and  as  asso- 
ciating them  with  known  or  ascertained  places.     But 


196      Asseni  considered  as  Unconditional, 

even  if  the  pleasure  of  knowledge  is  not  thus  founded 
on  the  imagination,  at  least  it  does  not  consist  in  that 
triumphant  repose  of  the  mind  after  a  struggle,  which 
is  the  characteristic  of  certitude. 

And  so  too  as  to  such  statements  as  gain  from  us  a 
half-assent,  as  superstitious  tales,  stories  of  magic,  of 
romantic  crime,  of  ghosts,  or  such  as  we  follow  for 
the  moment  with  a  faint  and  languid  assent, — contem- 
porary history,  political  occurrences,  the  news  of  the 
day, — the  pleasure  resulting  from  these  is  that  of  no- 
velty or  curiosity,  and  is  like  the  pleasure  arising  from 
the  excitement  of  chance  and  from  variety  ;  it  has  in 
it  no  sense  of  possession :  it  is  simply  external  to  us, 
and  has  nothing  akin  to  the  thought  of  a  battle  and 
a  victory. 

(2.)  Again,  the  Pursuit  of  knowledge  has  its  own 
pleasure,  distinct  from  the  pleasures  of  knowledge,  as 
it  is  distinct  from  that  of  consciously  possessing  it. 
This  will  be  evident  at  once,  if  we  consider  what  a 
vacuity  and  depression  of  mind  sometimes  comes  upon 
us  on  the  termination  of  an  inquiry,  however  success- 
fully terminated,  compared  with  the  interest  and  spirit 
with  which  we  carried  it  on.  The  pleasure  of  a 
search,  like  that  of  a  hunt,  lies  in  the  searching,  and 
ends  at  the  point  at  which  the  pleasure  of  certitude 
begins.  Its  elements  are  altogether  foreign  to  those 
which  go  to  compose  the  serene  satisfaction  of  certi- 
tude. First,  the  successive  steps  of  discovery,  which 
attend  on  an  investigation,  are  continual  and  ever-ex- 
tending informations,  and  pleasurable,  not  only  as 
such,  but  also  as  the  evidence  of  past  efforts,  and  the 
earnest  of  success  at  the  last.  Next,  there  is  the  in- 
terest which  attaches  to  a  mystery,  not  yet  removed, 


Complex  Assent.  197 

but  tending  to  removal, — the  complex  pleasure  of 
wonder,  expectation,  sudden  surprises,  suspense,  and 
hope,  of  advances  fitful,  3^et  sure,  to  the  unknown. 
And  there  is  the  pleasure  which  attaches  to  the  toil 
and  conflict  of  the  strong,  the  consciousness  and  suc- 
cessive evidences  of  power,  moral  and  intellectual, 
the  pride  of  ingenuity  and  skill,  of  industry,  patience, 
vigilance,  and  perseverance. 

Such  are  the  pleasures  of  investigation  and  discov- 
ery ;  and  to  these  we  must  add,  what  I  have  suggested 
in  the  last  sentence,  the  logical  satisfaction,  as  it  may 
be  called,  which  accompanies  these  efforts  of  mind. 
There  is  great  pleasure,  as  is  plain,  at  least  to  certain 
minds,  in  proceeding  from  particular  facts  to  princi- 
ples, in  generalizing,  discriminating,  reducing  into 
order  and  meaning  the  maze  of  phenomena  which 
nature  presents  to  us.  This  is  the  kind  of  pleasure 
attendant  on  the  treatment  of  probabilities  which 
point  at  conclusions  without  reaching  them,  or  of  ob- 
jections which  must  be  weighed  and  measured,  and 
adjusted  for  what  they  are  worth,  over  and  against 
propositions  which  are  antecedently  evident.  It  is 
the  special  pleasure  belonging  to  Inference  as  con- 
trasted with  Assent,  a  pleasure  almost  poetical,  as 
twilight  has  more  poetry  in  it  than  noon-day.  Such 
is  the  joy  of  the  pleader,  with  a  good  case  in  hand, 
and  expecting  the  separate  attacks  of  half  a  dozen 
acute  intellects,  each  advancing  from  a  point  of  his 
own.  I  suppose  this  was  the  pleasure  which  the 
Academics  had  in  mind,  when  they  propounded  that 
happiness  lay,  not  in  finding  the  truth,  but  in  seeking 
it.  To  seek,  indeed,  with  the  certainty  of  not  finding 
what  we  seek,  cannot  in  any  serious  matter,  be  plea- 


198      Assent  conside7^ed  as   UnconditionaL 

surable,  any  more  than  the  labor  of  Sisyphus  or  the 
Danaides ;  but  when  the  result  does  not  concern  us 
very  much,  clever  arguments  and  rival  ones  have  the 
attraction  of  a  game  of  chance  or  skill,  whether  or 
not  they  lead  to  any  definite  conclusion. 

(3.)  Are  there  pleasures  of  Doubt,  as  well  as  of  In- 
ference and  of  Assent  ?  In  one  sense,  there  are.  Not 
indeed,  if  doubt  simply  means  ignorance,  uncertainty, 
or  hopeless  suspense;  but  there  is  a  certain  gi'ave 
acquiescence  in  ignorance,  a  recognition  of  our  impo- 
tence to  solve  momentous  and  urgent  questions,  which 
has  a  satisfaction  of  its  ovv^n.  After  high  aspirations, 
after  renewed  endeavors,  after  bootless  toil,  after  long 
wanderings,  after  hope,  effort,  weariness,  failure,  pain- 
fully alternating  and  recurring,  it  is  an  immense  re- 
lief to  the  exhausted  mind  to  be  able  to  say,  ''At 
length  I  know  that  I  can  knov/  nothing  about  any 
thing," — that  is,  while  it  can  maintain  itself  in  a  pos- 
ture of  thought  Avhich  has  no  promise  of  permanence, 
because  it  is  unnatural.  But  here  the  satisfaction 
does  not  lie  in  not  knowing,  but  in  knowing  there  is 
nothing  to  knov^'-.  It  is  a  positive  act  of  assent  or 
conviction,  given  to  what  in  the  particular  case  is  an 
untruth.  It  is  the  assent  and  the  false  certitude  which 
are  the  cause  of  the  tranquillity  of  mind.  Ignorance 
remains  the  evil  wdiich  it  ever  was,  but  something  of 
the  peace  of  certitude  is  gained  in  knowing  the  worst, 
and  in  having  reconciled  the  mind  to  the  endurance 
of  it. 

I  may  seem  to  have  been  needlessly  diffuse  in  thus 
dwelling  on  the  pleasurable  affections  severally  at- 
tending on  these  various  conditions  of  the  intellect, 


Complex  Assent,  199 

but  I  have  had  a  purpose  in  doing  so.  That  Certi- 
tude is  a  natural  and  normal  state  of  mind,  and  not 
(as  is  sometimes  objected)  one  of  its  extravagances  or 
infirmities,  is  proved  indeed  by  the  remarks  which  I 
have  made  above  on  the  same  objection,  as  directed 
against  assent ;  for  certitude  is  only  one  of  its  forms. 
But  I  have  thought  it  well  in  addition  to  suggest, 
even  at  the  expense  of  a  digression,  that  as  no  one 
would  refuse  to  Inquiry,  Doubt,  and  Knowledge  a 
legitimate  place  among  our  mental  constituents,  so 
no  one  can  reasonably  ignore  a  state  of  mind  which 
not  only  is  shown  to  be  substantive  by  possessing  a 
sentiment  sui  generis;  and  characteristic,  but  is  analo- 
gical to  Inquiry,  Doubt,  and  Knowledge,  in  the  fact 
of  its  having  such  a  sentiment. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

* 

CERTITUDE. 
§  I.  Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted. 

In  proceeding  to  compare  together  simple  assent  and 
complex,  that  is,  assent  and  certitude,  I  begin  by 
observing,  that  popular^  no  distinction  is  made  be- 
tween the  two ;  or  rather,  that  in  religious  teaching 
that  is  called  certitude  to  which  I  have  given  the 
name  of  assent.  I  have  no  difficulty  in  adopting 
such  a  use  of  the  words,  though  the  course  of  my 
investigation  has  led  me  to  another.  Perhaps  reli- 
gious assent  may  be  fitly  called,  to  use  a  theological 
term,  ''material  certitude;"  and  the  first  point  of 
comparison  which  I  shall  make  between  the  two 
states  of  mind,  will  serve  to  set  me  right  with  the 
common  way  of  speaking. 

I.  It  certainly  follows  then,  from  the  distinctions 
which  I  have  made,  that  great  numbers  of  men  must 
be  considered  to  pass  through  life  with  neither  doubt 
nor,  on  the  other  hand,  certitude  (as  I  have  used  the 
words)  on  the  most  important  propositions  which  can 
occupy  their  minds,  but  with  only  a  simple  assent, 
that  is,  an  assent  which  they  barely  recognize,  or 


Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted,         201 

bring  home  to  their  consciousness  or  reflect  upon,  as 
being  assent.  Such  an  assent  is  all  that  religious 
Protestants  commonly  have  to  show,  who  believe 
nevertheless  with  their  whole  hearts  the  contents  of 
Holy  Scripture.  Such  too  is  the  state  of  mind  of 
multitudes  of  good  Catholics,  perhaps  the  majority, 
who  live  and  die  in  a  simple,  full,  firm  belief  in  all 
that  the  Church  teaches,  because  she  teaches  it, — in 
the  behef  of  the  irreversible  truth  of  whatever  she 
defines  and  declares, — but  who,  as  being  far  removed 
from  Protestant  and  other  dissentients,  and  having 
but  little  intellectual  training,  have  never  had  the 
temptation  to  doubt,  and  never  the  opportunity  to 
be  certain.  There  were  whole  nations  in  the  middle 
ages  thus  steeped  in  the  Catholic  Faith,  who  never 
used  its  doctrines  as  matter  for  argument  or  research, 
or  changed  the  original  belief  of  their  childhood  into 
the  more  scientific  convictions  of  philosophy.  As 
there  is  a  condition  of  mind  which  is  characterized  by 
invincible  ignorance,  so  there  is  another  which  may 
be  said  to  be  possessed  of  invincible  knowledge ;  and 
it  would  be  paradoxical  in  me  to  deny  to  such  a  men- 
tal state  the  highest  quality  of  religious  faith, — I  mean 
certitude. 

I  allow  this,  and  therefore  I  will  call  simple  assent 
material  certitude ;  or,  to  use  a  still  more  apposite 
term  for  it,  interpretative  certitude.  I  call  it  interpre- 
tative, signifying  thereby  that,  though  the  assent  in 
the  individuals  contemplated  is  not  a  reflex  act,  still 
the  question  only  has  to  be  started  about  the  truth  of 
the  objects  of  their  assent,  in  order  to  elicit  from  them 
an  act  of  faith  in  response  which  will  fulfil  the  condi- 
tions of  certitude,  as  I  have  drawn  them  out.     As  to 


202  Certitude, 

the  argumentative  process  necessary  for  such  an  act, 
it  is  valid  and  sufficient,  if  it  be  carried  out  seriously, 
and  proportionate  to  their  several  capacities.  ''  The 
Catholic  Religion  is  true,  because  its  objects,  as  pre- 
sent to  my  mind,  control  and  influence  my  conduct 
as  nothing  else  does ;"  or  ''  because  it  has  about  it  an 
odor  of  truth  and  sanctity  siii  generis,  as  perceptible 
to  my  moral  nature  as  flowers  to  my  sense,  such  as 
can  only  come  from  heaven;"  or  ''because  it  has 
never  been  to  me  anything  but  peace,  joy,  consola- 
tion, and  strength,  all  through  my  troubled  life."  And 
if  the  particular  argument  used  in  some  instances 
needs  strengthening,  then  let  it  be  observed,  that  the 
keenness  of  the  real  apprehension  with  which  the  as- 
sent is  made,  though  it  cannot  be  the  legitimate  basis 
of  the  assent,  may  still  legitimately  act,  and  strongly 
act,  in  confirmation.  Such,  I  say,  would  be  the  promp- 
titude and  effectiveness  of  the  reasoning,  and  the  faci-, 
lity  of  the  change  from  assent  to  certitude  proper,  in 
the  case  of  the  multitudes  in  question,  did  the  occa- 
sion for  reflection  occur;  but  it  does  not  occur;  and 
accordingly,  most  genuine  and  thorough  as  is  the  as- 
sent, it  can  only  be  called  virtual,  material,  or  inter- 
pretative certitude,  if  I  have  above  explained  certi- 
tude rightl3\ 

Of  course  these  remarks  hold  good  in  secular  sub- 
jects as  well  as  religious  : — I  believe,  for  instance,  that 
I  am  living  in  an  island,  that  Julius  Caesar  once 
invaded  it,  that  it  has  been  conquered  by  successive 
races,  that  it  has  had  great  pohtical  and  social 
changes,  and  that  at  this  time  it  has  colonies,  es- 
tablishments, and  imperial  dominion  all  over  the 
earth.     All  this  I  am  accustomed  to  take  for  granted 


Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted.  203 

without  a  thought;  but,  were  the  need  to  arise,  I 
should  not  find  much  difficulty  in  drawing  out  from 
my  own  mental  resources  reasons  sufficient  to  justify 
me  in  these  beliefs. 

It  is  true  indeed  that,  among  the  multitudes  who 
are  thus  implicitly  certain,  there  may  be  those  who 
would  change  their  assents,  did  they  seek  to  place 
them  upon  an  argumentative  footing  ;  for  instance, 
some  believers  in  Christianity,  did  they  examine  into 
its  claims,  might  end  in  renouncing  it.  But  this  is 
only  saying  that  there  are  genuine  assents,  and  as- 
sents that  are  not  genuine ;  and  again,  that  there  is 
an  assent  which  is  not  a  virtual  certitude,  and  is  lost 
in  the  attempt  to  make  it  certitude.  And  of  course 
we  are  not  gifted  with  that  insight  into  the  minds  of 
individuals,  v/hich  enables  us  to  determine  before  the 
event,  when  it  is  that  an  assent  is  really  such,  and  when 
not,  or  not  a  deeply  rooted  assent.  Men  may  assent 
lightly,  or  from  mere  prejudice,  or  without  under- 
standing what  it  is  to  which  they  assent.  They  may 
be  genuine  believers  in  Revelation  up  to  the  time 
when  they  begin  formally  to  examine, — nay,  and 
really  have  implicit  reasons  for  their  belief, — and 
then,  being  overcome  by  the  number  of  views  which 
they  have  to  confront,  and  swayed  by  the  urgency  of 
special  objections,  or  biassed  by  their  imaginations, 
or  frightened  by  a  deeper  insight  into  the  claims  of 
religion  upon  the  soul,  may,  in  spite  of  their  habitual 
and  latent  grounds  for  believing,  shrink  back  and 
withdraw  their  assent.  Or  again,  they  may  once 
have  believed,  but  their  assent  has  gradually  become 
a  mere  profession,  without  their  knowing  it;  then, 
when  by  accident  they  interrogate  themselves,  they 


204  Certitude, 

find  no  assent  within  them  at  all,  to  turn  into  certi- 
tude. The  event  alone  determines  whether  wdiat  is 
outwardly  an  assent  is  really  an  act  of  the  mind  which 
admits  of  being- developed  into  certitude,  or  is  a  mere 
self-delusion  or  a  cloak  for  unbelief. 

2.  Next,  I  observe,  that,  of  the  two  modes  of  appre- 
hending propositions,  notional  and  real,  assent,  as  I 
have  already  said,  has  closer  relations  with  real  than 
with  notional.  Now  a  simple  assent  need  not  be 
notional ;  but  the  reflex  or  confirmatory  assent  of 
certitude  always  is  given  to  a  notional  proposition, 
viz.  to  the  truth,  necessity,  duty,  etc.,  of  our  assent  to 
the  simple  assent  and  to  its  proposition.  Its  predi- 
cate is  a  general  term,  and  cannot  stand  for  a  fact, 
whereas  the  original  proposition,  included  in  it,  may, 
and  often  does,  express  a  fact.  Thus,  "  The  cholera 
is  in  the  midst  of  us"  is  a  real  proposition;  but 
''That  'the  cholera  is  in  the  midst  of  us'  is  beyond 
all  doubt "  is  a  notional.  Now  assent  to  a  real  pro- 
position is  assent  to  an  imagination,  and  an  imagina- 
tion, as  supplying  objects  to  our  emotional  and  moral 
nature,  is  adapted  to  be  a  principle  of  action  :  accord- 
ingly, the  simple  assent  to  "The  cholera  is  among 
us,"  is  more  emphatic  and  operative,  than  the  con- 
firmatory assent,  "  It  is  beyond  reasonable  doubt  that 
'  the  cholera  is  among  us.'  "  The  confirmation  gives 
momentum  to  the  complex  act  of  the  mind,  but  the 
simple  assent  gives  it  its  edge.  The  simple  assent 
would  still  be  operative  in  its  measure,  though  the 
reflex  assent  was,  not  "  It  is  undeniable,"  but  "  It  is 
probable  "  that  "  the  cholera  is  among  us  ;"  whereas 
there  would  be  no  operative  force  in  the  mental  act 
at  all,  thousfh  the  reflex  assent  was  to  the  truth,  not 


Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted,         205 

to  the  probability  of  the  fact,  if  the  fact  which  was 
the  object  of  the  simple  assent  was  nothing  more 
than  ''The  cholera  is  in  China."  The  reflex  assent 
then,  Avhich  is  the  characteristic  of  certitude,  does 
not  immediately  touch  us;  it  is  purely  intellectual, 
and,  taken  by  itself,  has  scarcely  more  force  than  the 
recording  of  a  conclusion. 

I  have  taken  an  instance,  in  which  the  matter  which 
is  submitted  for  examination  and  for  assent,  can 
hardly  fail  of  being  interesting  to  the  minds  em- 
ployed upon  it ;  but  in  many  cases,  even  though  the 
fact  assented  to  has  a  bearing  upon  action,  it  is  not 
directly  of  a  nature  to  influence  the  feelings  or  con- 
duct, except  of  particular  persons.  And  in  such 
instances  of  certitude,  the  previous  labor  of  coming 
to  a  conclusion,  and  that  repose  of  mind  which  I  have 
above  described  as  attendant  on  an  assent  to  its  truth, 
often  counteracts  whatever  of  lively  sensation  the 
fact  thus  concluded  is  in  itself  adapted  to  excite  ;  so 
that  what  is  gained  in  depth  and  exactness  of  belief 
is  lost  as  regards  freshness  and  vigor.  Hence  it  is 
that  literary  or  scientific  men,  who  may  have  investi- 
gated some  difficult  point  of  history,  philosophy,  or 
physics,  and  have  come  to  their  own  settled  conclu- 
sion about  it,  having  had  a  perfect  right  to  form  one, 
are  far  more  disposed  to  be  silent  as  to  their  convic- 
tions, and  to  let  others  alone,  than  partisans  on  either 
side  of  the  question,  who  take  it  up  with  less  thought 
and  seriousness.  And  so  again,  in  the  religious 
world,  no  one  seems  to  look  for  any  great  devo- 
tion or  fervor  in  controversialists,  writers  on  Chris- 
tian Evidences,  theologians,  and  the  like,  it  being 
taken  for  granted,  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  such  men 


2o6  Certitude, 

are  too  intellectual  to  be  spiritual,  and  are  more 
occupied  with  the  truth  of  doctrine  than  with  its 
reality.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  Ave  would  see  Avhat 
the  force  of  simple  assent  can  be,  viewed  apart  from 
its  reflex  confirmation,  we  have  but  to  look  at  the 
generous  and  uncalculating  energy  of  faith  as  exem- 
plified in  the  primitive  Martyrs,  in  the  youths  who 
defied  the  pagan  tyrant,  or  the  maidens  who  were 
silent  under  his  tortures.  It  is  assent,  pure  and  sim- 
ple, which  is  the  motive  cause  of  great  achievements  ; 
it  is  confidence,  growing  out  of  instincts  rather  than 
arguments,  stayed  upon  a  vivid  apprehension,  and 
animated  by  a  transcendent  logic,  more  concentrated 
in  will  and  in  deed  for  the  very  reason  that  it  has  not 
been  subjected  to  any  intellectual  development. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that,  in  thus  speaking,  I 
am  contrasting  the  simple  and  the  reflex  assent,  which 
together  make  up  the  complex  act  of  certitude.  In 
its  complete  exhibition  keenness  in  believing  is  united 
with  repose  and  persistence. 

3.  We  must  take  the  constitution  of  the  human 
mind  as  we  find  it,  and  not  as  we  may  judge  it  ought 
to  be  ; — thus  I  am  led  on  to  another  remark,  which  is 
at  first  sight  disadvantageous  to  certitude.  Intro- 
spection of  our  intellectual  operations  is  not  the  best 
of  means  for  preserving  us  from  intellectual  hesita- 
tions. To  meddle  Avith  the  springs  of  thought  and 
action  is  really  to  weaken  them  ;  and,  as  to  that  argu- 
mentation which  is  the  preliminary  to  certitude,  it 
may  indeed  be  unavoidable,  but,  as  in  the  case  of 
other  serviceable  allies,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  discard  it, 
after  it  has  done  its  work,  as  it  was  in  the  first  instance 
to  obtain  its  assistance.     Questioning,  when  encour- 


Assent  and  Certitnde  contrasted.  207 

aged  on  any  subject-matter,  readily  becomes  a  habit, 
and  leads  the  mind  to  substitute  exercises  of  inference 
for  assent,  whether  simple  or  complex.  Reasons  for 
assenting  suggest  reasons  for  not  assenting,  and  what 
were  realities  to  our  imagination,  while  our  assent  was 
simple,  may  become  little  more  than  notions,  when  we 
have  attained  to  certitude.  Objections  and  difficul- 
ties tell  upon  the  mind ;  it  may  lose  its  elasticity,  and 
be  unable  to  throw  them  off.  And  thus,  even  as  re- 
gards things  which  it  may  be  absurd  to  doubt,  we 
may,  in  consequence  of  some  past  suggestion  of  the 
possibility  of  error,  or  of  some  chance  association  to 
their  disadvantage,  be  teazed  from  time  to  time  and 
hampered  by  involuntary  questionings,  as  if  we  were 
not  certain,  when  we  are.  Na}^,  there  are  those,  who 
are  visited  with  these  even  permanently,  as  a  sort  of 
musccB  volitantes  of  their  mental  vision,  ever  flitting  to 
and  fro,  and  dimming  its  clearness  and  completeness 
— visitants,  for  which  they  are  not  responsible,  and 
which  they  know  to  be  unreal,  still  so  seriously  inter- 
fering with  their  comfort  and  even  with  their  energy, 
that  they  may  be  tempted  to  complain  that  even 
blind  prejudice  has  more  of  quiet  and  of  durability 
than  certitude. 

As  even  Saints  may  suffer  from  imaginations  in 
which  they  have  no  part,  so  the  shreds  and  tatters  of 
former  controversies,  and  the  litter  of  an  argumenta- 
tive habit,  may  beset  and  obstruct  the  intellect, — 
questions  which  have  been  solved  without  their  solu- 
lutions,  chains  of  reasoning  with  missing  Hnks,  diffi- 
culties which  have  their  roots  in  the  nature  of  things, 
and  which  are  necessarily  left  behind  in  a  philosophi- 
cal  inquiry  because   they  cannot  be  removed,  and 


2o8  Certitude, 

which  call  for  the  exercise  of  good  sense  and  for 
strength  of  will  to  put  them  down  with  a  high  hand, 
as  irrational  or  preposterous.  Whence  comes  evil  ? 
why  are  we  created  without  our  consent?  how  can 
the  Supreme  Being  have  no  beginning?  how  can  He 
need  skill,  if  He  is  omnipotent  ?  if  He  is  omnipotent, 
why  does  He  permit  suffering?  if  He  permits  suffer- 
ing, how  is  He  all-loving  ?  if  He  is  all-loving,  how 
can  He  be  just?  if  He  is  infinite,  what  has  He  to  do 
Avith  the  finite  ?  how  can  the  temporary  be  decisive 
of  the  eternal  ? — these,  and  a  host  of  like  questions, 
must  arise  in  every  thoughtful  mind,  and,  after  the 
best  use  of  reason,  must  be  deliberately  put  aside,  as 
beyond  reason,  as  (so  to  speak)  no-thoroughfares, 
which,  having  no  outlet  themselves,  have  no  legiti- 
mate power  to  divert  us  from  the  King's  highway, 
and  to  hinder  the  direct  course  of  religious  inquiry 
from  reaching  its  destination.  A  serious  obstruction, 
however,  they  will  be  now  and  then  to  particular 
minds,  enfeebling  the  faith  which  they  cannot  destroy, 
— being  parallel  to  the  uncomfortable  associations 
with  which  we  regard  one  whom  we  have  fallen-in 
with,  acquaintance  or  stranger,  arising  from  some 
chance  word,  look,  or  action  of  his  which  we  have 
witnessed,  and  which  prejudices  him  in  our  imagina- 
tion, though  we  are  angry  with  ourselves  that  it 
should  do  so. 

Again,  when,  in  confidence  of  our  own  certitude, 
and  with  a  view  to  philosophical  fairness,  we  have  at- 
tempted successfully  to  throw  ourselves  out  of  our 
habits  of  belief  into  a  simply  dispassionate  frame  of 
mind,  then  vague  antecedent  improbabilities,  or  what 
seem  to  us  as  such, — merely  what  is  strange  or  mar- 


Assent  and  Certitude  contrasted.         209 

vellous  in  certain  truths,  merely  the  fact  that  things 
happen  in  one  Avay  and  not  in  another,  when  they 
must  happen  in  some  way, — may  disturb  us,  as  sug- 
gesting to  us, ''  Is  it  possible  ?  who  would  have  thought 
it !  what  a  coincidence  !"  without  really  touching  the 
deep  assent  of  our  whole  intellectual  being  to  the 
object,  whatever  it  be,  thus  irrationally  assailed. 
Thus  we  may  wonder  at  the  Divine  Mercy  of  the  In- 
carnation, till  we  grow  startled  at  it,  and  ask  why  the 
earth  has  so  special  a  theological  history,  or  why  we 
are  Christians  and  others  not,  or  how  God  can  really 
exert  a  particular  governance,  since  He  does  not  pun- 
ish such  sinners  as  we  are,  thus  seeming  to  doubt  His 
power  or  His  equity,  though  in  truth  we  are  not 
doubting  at  all. 

The  occasion  of  this  intellectual  waywardness  may 
be  shghter  still.  I  gaze  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  or  on 
the  Parthenon,  or  on  the  Pyramids,  which  I  have  read 
of  from  a  boy,  or  upon  the "  matter-of-fact  reality  of 
the  sacred  places  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  I  have  to 
force  m}^  imagination  to  follow  the  guidance  of  sight 
and  of  reason.  It  is  to  me  so  strange  that  a  lifelong 
belief  should  be  changed  into  sight,  and  things  should 
be  so  near  me,  which  hitherto  had  been  visions.  And 
so  in  times,  first  of  suspense,  then  of  joy  ;  "  When  the 
Lord  turned  the  captivity  of  Sion,  then  "  (according 
to  the  Hebrew  text)  ''  we  were  like  unto  them  that 
dream."  Yet  it  was  a  dream  which  they  were  cer- 
tain was  a  truth,  while  they  seemed  to  doubt  it.  So, 
too,  was  it  with  the  Apostles  after  our  Lord's  resur- 
rection. 

Such  vague  thoughts,  haunting  or  evanescent,  are 
in  no  sense  akin  to  that  struggle  between  faith  and 


2 1  o  Certitude, 

unbelief,  which  made  the  poor  father  cry  out,  ''  I 
beheve,  help  Thou  mine  unbelief!"  Nay,  even  what 
in  some  minds  seems  like  an  undercurrent  of  scepti- 
cism, or  a  faith  founded  on  a  perilous  substratum  of 
doubt,  need  not  be  more  than  a  temptation,  though 
robbing  certitude  of  its  normal  peacefulness.  In  such 
a  case,  faith  may  still  express  the  steady  conviction 
of  the  intellect ;  it  may  still  be  the  grave,  deep,  calm, 
prudent  assurance  of  mature  experience,  though  it 
is  not  the  ready  assent  of  the  3^oung,  the  generous, 
or  the  unreflecting. 

4.  There  is  another  characteristic  of  certitude,  in 
contrast  with  assent,  which  it  is  important  to  insist 
upon,  and  that  is,  its  persistence.  Assents  may  and 
do  change  ;  certitudes  endure.  This  is  why  religion 
demands  more  than  an  assent  to  its  truth  ;  it  requires 
certitude,  or  at  least  an  assent  which  is  convertible 
into  certitude  on  demand.  Without  certitude  in 
religious  faith  there  may  be  much  decency  of  pro- 
fession and  of  observance,  but  there  can  be  no  habit 
of  prayer,  no  directness  of  devotion,  no  intercourse 
with  the  unseen,  no  generosity  of  self-sacrifice.  Cer- 
titude then  is  essential  to  the  Christian ;  and  if  he  is 
to  persevere,  his  certitude  must  include  in  it  a  prin- 
ciple of  persistence.  This  it  has,  as  I  shall  explain  in 
the  next  Section. 


Indefedibility  of  Certitude.  211 


§  2.  Indefectibility  of  Certitude. 

It  is  the  characteristic  of  certitude  that  its  object 
is  a  truth,  a  truth  as  such,  a  proposition  as  true. 
There  are  right  and  wrong  convictions,  and  certi- 
tude is  a  right  conviction  ;  if  it  is  not  right  with  a 
consciousness  of  being  right,  it  is  not  certitude. 
Now  truth  cannot  change ;  what  is  once  truth  is 
always  truth ;  and  the  human  mind  is  made  for  truth, 
and  so  rests  in  truth,  as  it  cannot  rest  in  falsehood. 
When  then  it  once  becomes  possessed  of  a  truth, 
what  is  to  dispossess  it?  but  this  is  to  be  certain; 
therefore  once  certitude,  always  certitude.  If  certi- 
tude in  any  matter  be  the  termination  of  all  doubt  or 
fear  about  its  truth,  and  an  unconditional  conscious 
adherence  to  it,  it  carries  with  it  an  inward  assur- 
ance, strong  though  implicit,  that  it  shall  never  fail. 
Indefectibility  almost  enters  into  its  very  idea,  enters 
into  it  at  least  so  far  as  this,  that  its  failure,  if  of 
frequent  occurrence,  would  prove  that  certitude  was 
after  all  and  in  truth  an  impossible  act,  and  that  what 
looked  like  it  was  a  mere  extravagance  of  the  intel- 
lect. Truth  would  still  be  truth,  but  the  knowledge 
of  it  would  be  beyond  us  and  unattainable.  It  is  of 
great  importance  then  to  show,  that,  as  a  general 
rule,  certitude  does  not  fail;  that  failures  of  what 
was  taken  for  certitude  are  the  exception ;  that  the 


2 1 2  Certitude. 

intellect,  which  is  made  for  truth,  can  attain  truth, 
and,  having  attained  it,  can  keep  it,  can  recognize  it, 
and  preserve  the  recognition. 

This  is  on  the  whole  reasonable  ;  yet  are  the  stipu- 
lations, thus  obviously  necessary  for  an  act  or  state 
of  certitude,  ever  fulfilled?  We  know  what  conjec- 
ture is,  and  what  opinion,  and  what  assent  is,  can  we 
point  out  any  specific  state  or  habit  of  thought,  of 
which  the  distinguishing  mark  is  unchangeableness? 
On  the  contrary,  any  conviction,  false  as  well  as  true, 
may  last ;  and  any  conviction,  true  as  well  as  false, 
may  be  lost.  A  conviction  in  favor  of  a  proposition 
may  be  exchanged  for  a  conviction  of  its  contradic- 
tory ;  and  each  of  them  may  be  attended,  while  they 
last,  by  that  sense  of  security  and  repose,  which  a 
true  object  alone  can  legitimately  impart.  No  line 
can  be  drawn  between  such  real  certitudes  as  have 
truth  for  their  object,  and  apparent  certitudes.  No 
distinct  test  can  be  named,  sufficient  to  discriminate 
between  what  may  be  called  the  false  prophet  and 
the  true.  What  looks  like  certitude  always  is  ex- 
posed to  the  chance  of  turning  out  to  be  a  mistake. 
If  our  intimate,  deliberate  conviction  may  be  coun- 
terfeit in  the  case  of  one  proposition,  why  not  in  the 
case  of  another?  if  in  the  case  of  one  man,  why  not 
in  the  case  of  a  hundred?  Is  certitude  then  ever  pos- 
sible without  the  attendant  gift  of  infallibility?  can 
we  know  what  is  right  in  one  case,  unless  we  are 
secured  against  error  in  any  ?  Further,  if  one  man  is 
infallible,  why  is  he  different  from  his  brethren? 
unless  indeed  he  is  distinctly  marked  out  for  the 
prerogative.  Must  not  all  be  infallible  by  consc-; 
quence,  if  any  one  is  to  be  considered  as  certain  ? 


Indefectibility  of  Cei'titude.  213 

The  difficulty,  thus  stated  argumentatively,  has 
only  too  accurate  a  response  in  what  actually  goes 
on  in  the  world.  It  is  a  fact  of  daily  occurrence  that 
men  change  their  certitudes,  that  is,  what  they 
consider  to  be  such,  and  are  as  confident  and  Avell- 
established  in  their  new  opinions  as  the}^  v/ere  once 
in  their  old.  They  take  up  forms  of  religion  only  to 
leave  them  for  their  contradictories.  They  risk  their 
fortunes  and  their  lives  on  impossible  adventures. 
They  commit  themselves  by  word  and  deed,  in  repu- 
tation and  position,  to  schemes  which  in  the  event 
they  bitterly  repent  of  and  renounce  ;  they  set  out  in 
youth  Avith  intemperate  confidence  in  prospects  which 
fail  them,  and  in  friends  v/ho  betray  them,  ere  they 
come  to  middle  age ;  and  they  end  their  days  in  cyn- 
ical disbelief  of  truth  and  virtue  any  where ; — and 
often,  the  more  absurd  are  their  means  and  their 
ends,  so  much  the  longer  do  they  cling  to  them,  and 
then  again  so  much  the  more  passionate  is  their 
eventual  disgust  and  contem.pt  of  them.  How  then 
can  certitude  be  theirs,  how  is  certitude  possible  at 
all,  considering  it  is  so  often  misplaced,  so  often  fickle 
and  inconsistent,  so  deficient  in  available  criteria? 
And,  as  to  the  feeling  of  finality  and  security,  ought 
it  ever  to  be  indulged  ?  Is  it  not  a  mere  weakness  or 
extravagance,  a  deceit,  to  be  eschewed  by  every  clear 
and  prudent  mind  ?  With  the  countless  instances,  on 
all  sides  of  us,  of  human  fallibility,  Avith  the  constant 
exhibitions  of  antagonist  certitudes,  Avho  can  so  sin 
against  modesty  and  sobriety  of  mind,  as  not  to  be 
content  Avith  probabilities,  as  the  true  guide  of  life, 
renouncing  ambitious  thoughts,  Avhich  are  sure  either 
to  delude  him,  or  to  disappoint? 


2 1 4  Certitttde, 

This  is  Avhat  maybe  objected  :  now  let  us  see  what 
can  be  said  in  answer,  particularly  as  regards  reHgious 
certitude. 

I. 

First,  as  to  fallibility  and  infallibility.  It  is  very 
common,  doubtless,  especially  in  religious  contro- 
versy, to  confuse  infallibility  with  certitude,  and  to 
argue  that,  since  we  have  not  the  one,  we  have  not 
the  other,  for  that  no  one  can  claim  to  be  certain  on 
any  point,  who  is  not  infallible  about  all ;  but  the  two 
v>- ords  stand  for  things  quite  distinct  from  each  other. 
For  example,  I  remember  for  certain  wdiat  I  did  yes- 
terday, but  still  my  memory  is  not  infallible ;  I  am 
quite  clear  that  two  and  two  makes  four,  but  I  often 
make  mistakes  in  long  addition  sums.  I  have  no  doubt 
whatever  that  John  or  Richard  is  my  true  friend,  but  I 
have  before  now  trusted  those  who  failed  me,  and  I  may 
do  so  aofain  before  I  die.  A  certitude  is  directed  to 
this  or  that  particular  proposition  ;  it  is  not  a  faculty 
or  gift,  but  a  disposition  of  mind  relatively  to  a 
definite  case  Vv^hich  is  before  me.  Infallibility,  on  the 
contrary,  is  just  that  which  certitude  is  not ;  it  is  a 
faculty  or  gift,  and  relates,  not  to  some  one  truth  in 
particular,  but  to  all  possible  propositions  in  a  given 
subject-matter.  We  ought,  in  strict  propriety,  to 
speak,  not  of  infallible  acts,  but  of  acts  of  infallibility. 
A  belief  or  opinion  as  little  admits  of  being  called 
infallible,  as  a  deed  can  correctly  be  called  immortal. 
A  deed  is  done  and  over ;  it  may  be  great,  moment- 
ous, effective,  any  thing  but  immortal ;  it  is  its  fame, 
it  is  the  work  whxh  it  brings  to  pass,  which  is  im- 
mortal, not  the  deed  itself.    And  as  a  deed  is  good  or 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude.  215 

bad,  but  never  immortal,  so  a  belief,  opinion,  or  cer- 
titude is  true  or  false,  but  never  infallible.  We  cannot 
speak  of  things  which  exist  or  things  v,diich  once 
were,  as  if  they  were  something  in  posse.  It  is  persons 
and  rules  that  are  infallible,  not  what  is  brought  out 
into  act,  or  committed  to  paper.  A  man  is  infalUble, 
whose  words  are  always  true  ;  a  rule  is  infallible,  if  it 
is  unerring  in  all  its  possible  applications.  An  in- 
falHble  authority  is  certain  in  every  particular 
case  that  may  arise ;  but  a  man  who  is  certain 
in  some  one  definite  case,  is  not  on  that  account  in- 
faUible. 

I  am  quite  certain  that  Victoria  is  our  Sovereign, 
and  not  her  father,  the  late  Duke  of  Kent,  without 
laying  any  claim  to  the  gift  of  infalUbility  ;  as  I  may 
do  a  virtuous  action,  without  being  impeccable.  I 
may  be  certain  that  the  Church  is  infalhble,  while  I 
am  myself  a  fallible  mortal ;  otherwise,  I  cannot  be 
certain  that  the  Supreme  Being  is  infallible,  until  I  am 
infallible  myself.  It  is  a  strange  objection,  then, 
which  is  sometimes  made  to  Catholics,  that  they  can- 
not prove  and  assent  to  the  Church's  infallibiHty, 
unless  they  first  believe  in  their  own.  Certitude,  as  I 
have  said,  is  directed  to  one  or  other  definite  con- 
crete proposition.  I  am  certain  of  proposition  one, 
two,  three,  four,  five,  one  by  one,  each  by  itself.  I 
may  be  certain  of  one  of  them,  without  being  certain 
of  the  rest ;  that  I  am  certain  of  the  first  makes  it 
neither  likely  nor  unlikely  that  I  am  certain  of  the 
rest ;  but  were  I  infallible,  then  I  should  be  certain, 
not  only  of  one  of  them,  but  of  all,  and  of  many  more 
besides,  which  have  never  come  before  me  as  3^et. 
Therefore  we  may  be  certain  of  the  infallibility  of  the 


2 1 6  Certitude. 

Church,  while  we  admit  that  in  many  things  we  are 
not,  and  cannot  be,  certain  at  all. 

It  is  wonderful  that  a  clear-headed  man,  like  Chil- 
Hngworth,  sees  this  as  little  as  the  run  of  every-day 
objectors  to  the  Catholic  religion  ;  for  in  his  cele- 
brated ''Religion  of  Protestants"  he  writes  as  fol- 
lows:— ''You  tell  me  they  cannot  be  saved,  unless 
they  believe  in  ^^our  proposals  with  an  infallible  faith. 
To  which  end  they  must  believe  also  your  pro- 
pounder,  the  Church,  to  be  simply  infalHble.  Now 
how  is  it  possible  for  them  to  give  a  rational  assent 
to  the  Church's  infallibility,  unless  they  have  some  in- 
fallible means  to  know  that  she  is  infallible  ?  Neither 
^an  they  infallibly  know  the  infallibihty  of  this  means, 
^ut  by  some  other ;  and  so  on  for  ever,  unless  they 
can  dig  so  deep,  as  to  come  at  length  to  the  Rock, 
that  is,  to  settle  all  upon  something  evident  of  itself, 
which  is  not  so  much  as  pretended."  '''* 

Now  what  is  an  "  infaUible  means  "  ?  It  is  a  means 
of  coming  at  a  fact  without  the  chance  of  mistake. 
It  is  a  proof  which  is  sufficient  for  certitude  in  the 
particular  case,  or  a  proof  that  is  certain.  When 
then  Chillingworth  says  that  there  can  be  no  "ra- 
tional assent  to  the  Church's  infallibility  "  without 
"some  infallible  means  of  knowing  that  she  is  infal- 
lible," he  means  nothing  else  than  a  means  which  is 
certain ;  he  says  that  for  a  rational  assent  to  infalli- 
bility there  must  be  an  absolutely  valid  or  certain 
proof.  This  is  intelligible ;  but  observe  how  his 
argument  w^ill  run,  if  worded  according  to  this  inter- 
pretation:  "  The  doctrine  of  the  Church's  infallibility 

*  ii.  II.  154- 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude,  217 

requires  a  proof  that  is  certain  ;  and  that  certain  proof 
requires  another  previous  certain  proof,  and  that 
again  another,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum,  unless  indeed 
we  dig  so  deep  as  to  settle  all  upon  something  evident 
of  itself."  What  is  this  but  to  say  that  nothing  in  this 
world  is  certain  but  what  is  self-evident  ?  that  nothing 
can  be  absolutely  proved  ?  Can  he  really  mean  this  ? 
What  then  becomes  of  physical  truth  ?  of  the  dis- 
coveries in  optics,  chemistry,  and  electricity,  or  of  the 
science  of  motion  ?  Intuition  by  itself  will  carry  us 
but  a  little  way  into  that  circle  of  knowledge  which  is 
the  boast  of  the  present  age. 

I  can  believe  then  in  the  infalUble  Church  without 
my  own  personal  infallibility.  Certitude  is  at  most 
nothing  more  than  infalHbility  pro  hac  vice,  and  prQ-^ 
mises  nothing  as  to  the  truth  of  any  proposition 
beside  its  own.  That  I  am  certain  of  this  proposition 
to-day  is  no  ground  for  thinking  that  I  shall  have  a 
right  to  be  certain  of  that  proposition  to-morrow  ;  and 
that  I  am  wrong  in  my  convictions  about  to-day's 
proposition,  does  not  hinder  my  having  a  true  convic- 
tion, a  genuine  certitude,  about  to-morrow's  proposi- 
tion. If  indeed  I  claim.ed  to  be  infallible,  one  failure 
would  shiver  my  claim  to  pieces;  but  I  may  claim  to 
be  certain  of  the  truth  to  which  I  have  ah-eady  at- 
tained, though  I  should  arrive  at  no  new  truths  in 
addition  as  long  as  I  live. 


Let  us  put  aside  the  word  "infallibility;"  let  us 
understand  by  certitude,  as  I  have  explained  it,  no- 
thing more  than  the  relation  of  the  mind  towards  de- 
finite propositions : — still,  it  may  be  urged,  it  involves 


2 1 8  Certitude, 

2l  sense  of  security  and  of  repose,  at  least  as  regards 
these  in  particular.  Now  how  can  this  security  be 
mine,  Avithout  which  certitude  is  not,  if  I  know,  as  I 
know  too  well,  that  before  now  I  have  thought  my- 
self certain,  when  I  was  certain  after  all  of  an  untruth  ? 
Is  not  the  very  possibility  of  certitude  lost  to  me  for 
ever  by  that  one  mistake?  What  happened  once, 
may  happen  again.  All  my  certitudes  before  and 
after  are  henceforth  destroyed  by  the  introduction  of 
a  reasonable  doubt,  underlying  them  all.  Ipso  facto 
they  cease  to  be  certitudes, — they  come  short  of  un- 
conditional assents  by  the  measure  of  that  counterfeit 
assurance.  They  are  nothing  more  to  me  than  opin- 
ions or  anticip'^.tions,  judgments  on  the  verisimilitude 
of  intellectual  \:j\\3,  not  the  possession  and  enjoy- 
ment of  truths.  And  who  has  not  thus  been  balked 
by  false  certitudes  a  hundred  times  in  the  course  of 
his  experience?  and  how  can  certitude  have  a  legiti- 
mate place  in  our  mental  constitution,  Vvdien  it  thus 
manifestly  ministers  to  error  and  to  scepticism  ? 

This  is  v/hat  may  be  objected,  and  it  is  not,  as  I 
think,  difficult  to  answer.  Certainl}^  the  experience 
of  mistakes  in  the  assents  which  we  have  made  are  to 
the  prejudice  of  subsequent  ones.  There  is  an  ante- 
cedent difficulty  in  our  allowing  ourselves  to  be  cer- 
tain of  something  to-day,  if  yesterday  we  had  to  give 
up  our  belief  of  something  else,  of  which  we  had  up 
to  that  time  professed  ourselves  to  be  certain.  This 
is  true;  but  antecedent  objections  to  an  act  are  not 
sufficient  of  themselves  to  prohibit  its  exercise;  they 
may  demand  of  us  an  increased  circumspection  before 
committing  ourselves  to  it,  but  may  be  met  with  rea- 
sons more  than  sufficient  to  overcome  them. 


Indefedibility  of  Certihtde,  219 

It  must  be  recollected  that  certitude  is  a  deliberate 
assent  given  expressly  after  reasoning.  If  then  my 
certitude  is  unfounded,  it  is  the  reasoning  that  is  in 
fault,  not  my  assent  to  it.  It  is  the  law  of  my  mind 
to  seal  up  the  conclusions  to  which  ratiocination  has 
brought  me,  by  that  formal  assent  which  I  have  call- 
ed a  certitude.  I  could  indeed  have  withheld  my 
certitude,  but  I  should  have  acted  against  my  nature, 
had  I  done  so  when  there  was  what  I  considered  a 
proof;  and  I  did  only  what  was  fitting,  what  was  in- 
cumbent on  me,  in  giving  it.  This  is  the  process  by 
which  knowledge  accumulates  and  is  stored  up  both 
in  the  individual  and  in  the  world.  It  has  sometimes 
been  remarked,  when  men  have  boasted  of  the  know- 
ledge of  modern  times,  that  no  wonder  we  see  more 
than  the  ancients,  because  we  are  mounted  upon  their 
shoulders.  The  conclusions  of  one  generation  are  the 
truths  of  the  next.  We  are  able,  it  is  our  duty,  de- 
liberately to  take  things  for  granted  which  our  fore- 
fathers had  a  duty  to  doubt  about ;  and  unless  we  sum- 
marily put  down  disputation  on  points  which  have 
been  already  proved  and  ruled,  we  shall  waste  our 
time,  and  make  no  advances.  Circumstances  indeed 
may  arise,  when  a  question  may  legitimately  be  re- 
vived, which  has  already  been  definitely  determined ; 
but  a  reconsideration  of  such  need  not  abruptly  un- 
settle the  existing  certitude  of  those  who  engage  in 
it,  or  throw  them  into  a  scepticism  about  things  in 
general,  even  though  eventually  they  find  they  have 
been  wrong  in  a  particular  matter.  It  w^ould  have 
been  absurd  to  prohibit  the  controversy  which  has 
lately  been  held  concerning  the  obligations  of  Newton 
to  Pascal;  and  supposing  it  had  issued  in  their  being 


220  Certitude. 

established,  the  partisans  of  Newton  would  not  have 
thought  it  necessary  to  renounce  their  certitude  of 
the  law  of  gravitation  itself,  on  the  ground  that  they 
had  been  mistaken  in  their  certitude  that  Newton 
discovered  it. 

If  we  are  never  to  be  certain,  if  once  we  have  been 
certain  wrongly,  then  we  ought  never  to  attempt  a 
proof  because  we  have  once  made  a  bad  one.     Errors 
in  reasoning  are  lessons  and  warnings,  not  to  give  up 
reasoning,  but  to  reason  with  greater  caution.     It  is 
absurd  to  break  up  the  whole  structure  of  our  know- 
ledge, which  is  the  glory  of  the  hum.an  intellect,  be- 
cause the  intellect  is  not  infallible  in  its  conclusions. 
If  in  any  particular  case  we  have  been  mistaken  in 
our   inferences   and   the    certitudes    which   followed 
upon  them,  we  are  bound  to  take  the  fact  of  this  mis- 
take into  account,  in  making  up  our  minds  on  an}^ 
new  question,  before  we  proceed  to  decide  upon  it. 
But  if  that  old  mistake  has  been  allowed  for,  while 
weighing  the  arguments  on  one  side  and  the  other  and 
drawing  our  conclusion,  or  has  been,  to  use  a  familiar 
mode  of  speaking,  discounted,  then  it  has  no  outstand- 
ing claim  against  our  acceptance  of  that  conclusion, 
after  it  has  actually  been  drav/n.    Whatever  its  worth, 
justice  has  been  done  to  it,  before  we  have  allowed 
ourselves  to  be  certain  again.     Suppose  I  am  walking 
out  in  the  moonlight,  and  see  dimly  the  outlines  of 
some  figure  among  the  trees; — it  is  a  man.     I  draw 
nearer, — it  is  still  a  man;   nearer  still,  and  all  hesita- 
tion is  at  an  end,— I  am  certain  it  is  a  man.     But  he 
neither  moves,  nor  speaks  when  I  address  him ;   and 
then  I  ask  myself  what  can  be  his  purpose  in  hiding 
among  the  trees  at  such  an  hour.     I  come  quite  close 


Ijidefectibility  of  Certitude.  221 

to  him,  and  put  out  my  arm.  Then  I  find  for  certain 
that  what  I  took  for  a  man  is  but  a  singular  shadow, 
formed  by  the  falling  of  the  moonlight  on  the  in- 
terstices of  some  branches  or  their  foliage.  Am  I  not 
to  indulge  my  second  certitude,  because  I  was  wrong- 
in  my  first?  does  not  any  objection,  which  lies  against 
my  second  from  the  failure  of  my  first,  fade  away  be- 
fore the  evidence  on  which  my  second  is  founded  ? 

Or  again :  I  depose  on  my  oath  in  a  court  of  justice, 
to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  that  I  was 
robbed  by  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  Then,  when  the 
real  offender  is  brought  before  me,  I  am  obliged,  to 
my  great  confusion,  to  retract.  Because  I  have  been 
mistaken  in  my  certitude,  may  I  not  at  least  be  cer- 
tain that  I  have  been  mistaken?  And  further,  in  spite 
of  the  shock  which  that  mistake  gives  me,  is  it  impos- 
sible that  the  sight  of  the  real  culprit  may  give  me  so 
luminous  a  conviction  that  at  length  I  have  got  the 
right  man,  that,  were  it  decent  towards  the  court,  or 
consistent  with  self-respect,  I  find  myself  prepared  to 
swear  to  the  identity  of  the  second,  as  I  have  already 
solemnly  committed  myself  to  the  identity  of  the  first? 
It  is  manifest  that  the  two  certitudes  stand  each  on  its 
own  basis,  and  the  antecedent  objection  to  a  truth 
which  came  second,  drawn  from  a  hallucination  which 
came  first,  is  a  mere  abstract  argument,  impotent  when 
directed  against  good  evidence  lying  in  the  concrete. 

3. 
If  in  the  criminal  case  which  I  have  been  suppos- 
ing, the  second  certitude,  felt  by  the  witness,  was  a 
legitimate  state  of  mind,  so  was  the  first.     An  act  is 
not  in  itself  wrong,  because  it  is  done  wrongly.    False 


22  2  Certitude, 

certitudes  are  faults  because  they  are  false,  not  be- 
cause they  are  (so-called)  certitudes.  They  are,  or 
may  be,  the  attempts  and  the  failures  of  an  intellect 
insufficiently  trained,  or  off  its  guard.  Assent  is  an 
act  of  the  mind,  congenial  to  its  nature ;  and  it,  as 
other  acts,  may  be  made  both  when  it  ought  to  be 
made,  and  when  it  ought  not.  It  is  a  free  act,  a  per- 
sonal act  for  which  the  doer  is  responsible,  and  the 
actual  mistakes  in  making  it,  be  they  ever  so  numer- 
ous or  serious,  have  no  force  Avhatever  to  prohibit 
the  act  itself.  We  are  accustomed  in  such  cases,  to 
appeal  to  the  maxim,  ''  Usum  non  tollit  abusus ;"  and 
it  is  plain  that,  if  what  may  be  called  functional  dis- 
arrangements of  the  intellect  are  to  be  considered 
fatal  to  the  recognition  of  the  functions  themselves, 
then  the  mind  has  no  laws  whatever  and  no  normal 
constitution.  I  just  nov\^  spoke  of  the  growth  of 
knowledge ;  there  is  also  a  growth  in  the  use  of  those 
faculties  by  which  knowledge  is  acquired.  The  in- 
tellect admits  of  an  education ;  man  is  a  being  of 
progress ;  he  has  to  learn  how  to  fulfil  his  end,  and 
to  be  what  facts  show  that  he  is  intended  to  be.  His 
mind  is  in  the  first  instance  in  disorder,  and  runs 
wild;  his  faculties  have  their  rudimental  and  inchoate 
state,  and  are  gradually  carried  on  by  practice  and 
experience  to  their  perfection.  No  instances  then 
whatever  of  mistaken  certitude  are  sufficient  to  con- 
stitute a  proof,  that  certitude  itself  is  a  perversion  or 
extravagance  of  his  nature. 

We  do  not  dispense  with  clocks,  because  from  time 
to  time  they  go  wrong,  and  tell  untruly.  A  clock, 
organically  considered,  may  be  perfect,  yet  it  may 
require  regulating.     Till  that  needful  work  is  done, 


hidefectibility  of  Certitude,  223 

the  moment-hand  may  mark  the  half-minute,  when 
the  minute-hand  is  at  the  quarter-past,  and  the  hour 
hand  at  noon,  and  the  quarter-bell  strikes  the  three 
quarters,  and  the  hour-bell  strikes  four,  while  the 
sun-dial  again  tells  two  o'clock.  The  sense  of  certi- 
tude may  be  called  the  bell  of  the  intellect ;  and  that 
it  strikes  when  it  should  not  is  a  proof  that  the  clock 
is  out  of  order,  no  proof  that  the  bell  will  be  untrust- 
worthy and  useless,  when  it  comes  to  us  adjusted  and 
regulated  from  the  hands  of  the  clockmaker. 

Our  conscience  too  may  be  said  to  strike  the  hours, 
and  will  strike  them  wrongly,  unless  it  be  duly  regu- 
lated for  the  performance  of  its  proper  function.  It 
is  the  loud  announcement  of  the  principle  of  right  in 
the  details  of  conduct,  as  the  sense  of  certitude  is  the 
clear  witness  to  what  is  true.  Both  certitude  and 
conscience  have  a  place  in  the  normal  condition  of 
the  mind.  As  a  human  being,  I  am  unable,  if  I  were 
to  try,  to  live  without  some  kind  of  conscience ;  and 
I  am  as  little  able  to  live  without  those  landmarks 
of  thought  which  certitude  secures  for  me ;  still,  as 
the  hammer  of  a  clock  may  tell  untruly,  so  may  my 
conscience  and  my  sense  of  certitude  be  attached  to 
mental  acts,  whether  of  consent  or  of  assent,  which  have 
no  claim  to  be  thus  sanctioned.  Both  the  moral  and 
the  intellectual  sanction  are  liable  to  be  biassed  by 
personal  inclinations  and  motives ;  both  require  and 
admit  of  discipline ;  and,  as  it  is  no  disproof  of  the 
authority  of  conscience  that  false  consciences  abound, 
neither  does  it  destroy  the  importance  and  the  uses 
of  certitude,  because  even  educated  minds,  who  are 
earnest  in  their  inquiries  after  the  truth,  in  many 
cases  remain  under  the  power  of  prejudice  or  delusion. 


2  24  Certitude. 

To  this  deficiency  in  mental  training  a  wider  error 
is  to  be  attributed, — the  mistaking-  for  conviction  and 
certitude  states  and  frames  of  mind  which  make  no 
pretence  to  the  fundamental  condition  on  which  con- 
viction rests  as  distinct  from  assent.  The  multitude 
of  men  confuse  together  the  probable,  the  possible, 
and  the  certain,  and  apply  these  terms  to  doctrines 
and  statements  alm.ost  at  random.  They  have  no 
clear  view  what  it  is  they  know,  Avhat  they  presume, 
what  they  suppose,  and  Vv^hat  they  only  assert.  They 
make  little  distinction  between  credence,  opinion, 
and  profession ;  at  various  times  they  give  them  all 
perhaps  the  name  of  certitude,  and  accordingly,  when 
they  change  their  minds,  they  fancy  they  have  given 
up  points  of  Avhich  they  had  a  true  conviction.  Or 
at  least  bystanders  thus  speak  of  them,  and  the  very 
idea  of  certitude  falls  into  disrepute. 

In  this  day  the  subject-matter  of  thought  and  be- 
lief has  so  increased  upon  us,  that  a  far  higher  mental 
formation  is  required  than  v/as  necessary  in  times 
past,  and  higher  than  we  have  actually  reached. 
The  whole  world  is  brought  to  our  doors  every 
morning,  and  our  judgment  is  required  upon  social 
concerns,  books,  persons,  parties,  creeds,  national  acts, 
political  principles  and  measures.  We  have  to  form 
our  opinion,  make  our  profession,  take  our  side  on  a 
hundred  matters  on  which  we  have  but  little  right 
to  speak  at  all.  But  we  do  speak,  and  must  speak, 
upon  them,  though  neither  we  nor  those  who  hear 
us  are  well  able  to  determine  what  is  the  real  posi- 
tion of  our  intellect  relatively  to  those  many  questions, 
one  by  one,  on  which  we  commit  ourselves;  and  then, 
since  many  of  these  questions  change  their  complex- 


Indefectibility  of  CertittLcle.  225 

ion  with  the  passing  hour,  and  many  require  elaborate 
consideration,  and  many  are  simply  beyond  us,  it  is 
not  wonderful,  if,  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  we  have 
to  revise  or  to  repudiate  our  conclusions  ;  and  then  we 
shall  be  unfairly  said  to  have  changed  our  certitudes, 
and  shall  confirm  the  doctrine,  that,  except  in  ab- 
stract truth,  no  judgment  rises  higher  than  proba- 
bility. 

Such  are  the  mistakes  about  certitude  among  edu- 
cated men ;  and  after  referring  to  them,  it  is  scarcely 
worth  while  to  dwell  upon  the  absurdities  and  ex- 
cesses of  the  rude  intellect,  as  seen  in  the  world  at 
large ;  as  if  any  one  could  dream  of  treating  as  deliber- 
ate assents,  as  assents  upon  assents,  as  convictions  or 
certitudes,  the  prejudices,  credulities,  infatuations, 
superstitions,  fanaticisms,  the  whims  and  fancies,  the 
sudden  irrevocable  plunges  into  the  unknown,  the 
obstinate  determinations, — the  offspring,  as  they  are, 
of  ignorance,  wilfulness,  cupidity,  and  pride, — which 
go  so  far  to  make  up  the  history  of  mankind ;  yet 
these  are  often  set  down  as  instances  of  certitude  and 
of  its  failure. 

4- 
I  have  spoken  of  certitude  as  being  assigned  a  defi- 
nite and  fixed  place  among  our  mental  acts  ; — it 
follows  upon  examination  and  proof,  as  the  bell 
sounds  the  hour,  when  the  hands  reach  it, — so  that 
no  act  or  state  of  the  intellect  is  certitude,  however 
it  may  resemble  it,  which  does  not  observe  this 
appointed  law.  This  proviso  greatly  diminishes 
the  catalogue  of  genuine  certitudes.  Another  re- 
striction is  this: — the  occasions  or  subject-matters  of 


2  26  Certitude. 

certitude  is  under  law  also.  Putting  aside  the  daily 
exercise  of  the  senses,  the  principal  subjects  of  certi- 
tude, in  secular  knowledge,  are  the  truths  or  facts 
which  are  its  basis.  As  to  this  world,  we  are  certain 
of  the  elements  of  knowledge,  whether  general,  scien- 
tific, historical,  or  such  as  bear  on  our  daily  needs 
and  habits,  and  relate  to  ourselves,  our  homes  and 
families,  our  friends,  neighborhood,  country,  and 
civil  state.  Beyond  these  elementary  points  of 
knowledge,  lies  a  vast  subject-matter  of  opinion, 
credence,  and  belief,  viz.  the  field  of  public  affairs, 
of  social  and  professional  life,  of  business,  of  duty,  of 
literature,  of  taste,  nay,  of  the  experimental  sciences. 
On  subjects  such  as  these  the  reasonings  and  conclu- 
sions of  mankind  vary, — "  mundum  tradidit  disputa- 
tioni  eorum ;" — and  prudent  men  in  consequence 
seldom  speak  confidently,  unless  they  are  warranted 
to  do  so  by  genius,  great  experience,  or  some  special 
qualification.  They  determine  their  judgments  by 
what  is  probable,  what  is  safe,  what  promises  best, 
Avhat  has  verisimilitude,  what  impresses  and  sways 
them.  They  neither  can  possess,  nor  need  certitude, 
nor  do  they  look  out  for  it. 

Hence  it  is  that — the  province  of  certitude  being 
so  contracted,  and  that  of  opinion  so  large — it  is 
common  to  call  probability  the  guide  of  life.  This, 
when  properly  explained,  is  true ;  however,  we  must 
not  suffer  ourselves  to  carry  a  true  maxim  to  an  ex- 
treme ;  it  is  far  from  true,  if  we  so  hold  it  as  to  forget 
that  without  first  principles  there  can  be  no  conclu- 
sions, and  that  thus  probability  does  in  some  sense 
presuppose  and  require  the  existence  of  truths  which 
are  certain.     Especially  is  it  untrue,  if  taken  to  sup- 


Indefedibility  of  Certitude,  227 

port  the  doctrine,  that  the  first  principles  and  ele- 
ments of  religion  are  mere  matter  of  opinion ;  though 
in  this  day,  it  is  too  often  taken  for  granted  that 
religion  is  one  of  those  subjects  on  which  truth  can- 
not be  discovered,  and  on  Avhich  one  conclusion 
is  pretty  much  on  a  level  with  another.  But  on  the 
contrary,  as  I  have  said,  the  initial  truths  of  divine 
knowledge  ought  to  be  viewed  as  parallel  to  the 
initial  truths  of  natural :  as  the  latter  are  certain,  so 
too  are  the  former.  Doubtless,  a  decent  reverence 
for  the  Supreme  Being,  an  acquiescence  in  the  claims 
of  Revelation,  a  general  profession  of  Christian  doc- 
trine, and  some  sort  of  attendance  on  sacred  ordi- 
nances, is  ail  the  religion  that  is  usual  with  even  the 
better  sort  of  men,  and  for  all  this  a  sufficient  basis 
may  certainly  be  found  in  probabilities;  but  if  reli- 
gion is  to  be  devotion,  and  not  a  mere  matter  of  sen- 
timent, if  it  is  to  be  made  the  ruling  principle  of  our 
lives,  if  our  actions,  one  by  one,  and  our  daily 
conduct,  are  to  be  consistently  directed  towards  an 
Invisible  Being,  wx  need  something  higher  than  a 
balance  of  ars^uments  to  fix  and  to  control  our  minds. 
Sacrifice  of  wealth,  name,  or  position,  faith  and 
hope,  self-conquest,  communion  with  the  spiritual 
world,  presuppose  a  real  hold  and  habitual  intuition 
of  the  objects  of  Revelation,  which  is  certitude  under 
another  name. 

To  this  issue  indeed  we  may  bring  the  main  differ- 
ence, viewed  philosophically,  between  nominal  Chris- 
tianity on  the  one  hand,  and  vital  Christianity  on  the 
other.  Rational,  sensible  men,  as  they  consider 
themselves,  are  content  with  such  a  measure  of 
probability  for  the  truths  of  religion,  as  serves  them 


2  28  Certititde, 

in  their  secular  transactions ;  but  those  who  are 
deliberately  staking  their  all  upon  the  hopes  of  the 
next  world,  think  it  reasonable,  and  find  it  necessary, 
before  starting  on  their  new  course,  to  have  some 
points,  clear  and  immutable,  to  start  from;  other- 
wise, they  will  not  start  at  all.  They  ask,  as  a  pre- 
liminary condition,  to  have  the  ground  sure  under 
their  feet ;  they  look  for  more  than  human  reasonings 
and  inferences,  for  nothing  less  than  the  ''  strong  con- 
solation," as  the  Apostle  speaks,  of  ''  those  immutable 
things  in  which  it  is  impossible  for  God  to  he,"  His 
promise  and  His  oath.  Christian  earnestness  may  be 
ruled  to  be  a  perverseness  or  a  delusion  ;  but  as  long 
as  it  exists  it  will  presuppose  certitude  as  the  life 
which  is  to  animate  it. 

This  is  the  true  parallel  between  human  and  divine 
knowledge  ;  each  of  them  opens  into  a  large  field  of 
mere  opinion,  but  in  both  the  one  and  the  other  the 
primary  principles,  the  general,  fundamental,  cardi- 
nal truths  are  immutable.  In  human  matters  we  are 
guided  by  probabihties,  but  they  are  probabilities 
founded  on  certainties.  It  is  on  no  probabihty  that 
we  receive  the  informations  of  sense  and  memory,  of 
our  intellectual  instincts,  of  the  moral  sense,  and  of 
the  logical  faculty.  It  is  on  no  probability  that  we 
receive  the  generalizations  of  science,  and  the  great 
outhnes  of  history.  There  are  certain  truths ;  and 
from  them  each  of  us  forms  his  own  judgments  and 
directs  his  own  course,  according  to  the  probabilities 
w^hich  they  suggest  to  him,  as  the  navigator  applies 
his  observations  and  his  charts  for  the  determination 
of  his  course.  Such  is  the  main  view  to  be  taken  of 
the  separate  provinces  of  probability  and  certainty  in 


hidefectibility  of  Certitude,  229 

matters  of  this  world  ;  and  so,  as  regards  the  world 
invisible  and  future,  wx  have  a  direct  and  conscious 
knowledge  of  our  Maker,  His  attributes,  His  provi- 
dences, acts,  works,  and  will ;  and  beyond  this  know- 
ledge lies  the  large  domain  of  theology,  metaphysics, 
and  ethics,  on  which  it  is  not  allowed  to  us  to  advance 
beyond  probabiUties,  or  to  attain  to  more  than  an 
opinion. 

Such  on  the  whole  is  the  analogy  between  our 
knowledo-e  of  matters  of  this  world  and  matters  of 
the  world  unseen  ; — indefectible  certitude  in  primary 
truths,  manifold  variations  of  opinion  in  their  appli- 
cation and  disposition. 

5. 

I  have  said  that  certitude,  Avhether  in  human  or 
divine  knov/ledge,  is  attainable  as  regards  general 
and  cardinal  truths ;  and  that  in  neither  department 
of  knowledge,  on  the  whole,  is  certitude  discredited, 
lost,  or  reversed ;  for,  in  matter  of  fact,  whether  in 
human  or  divine,  those  primary  truths  have  ever  kept 
their  place  from  the  tim.e  when  they  first  took  pos- 
session of  it.  However,  there  is  one  obvious  objec- 
tion, which  may  be  made  to  this  representation,  and 
I  proceed  to  take  notice  of  it. 

It  may  be  urged  then  that  time  was  when  the  pri- 
mary truths  of  science  were  unknown,  and  when  in 
consequence  various  theories  were  held,  contrary  to 
each  other.  The  first  element  of  all  things  was  said 
to  be  w^ater,  to  be  air,  to  be  fire  ;  the  framework  of 
the  universe  was  eternal ;  or  it  w^as  the  ever-new 
combination  of  innumerable  atoms ;  the  planets  w^ere 
fixed  in  solid  crystal  revolving  spheres  ;  or  they  moved 


230  Certitude, 

round  the  earth  in  epicycles  mounted  upon  circular 
orbits  ;  or  they  were  carried  Avhirling  round   about 
the  sun,  while  the  sun  was  whirling  round  the  earth. 
About  such  doctrines  there  Avas  no  certitude,  no  more 
than  there  is  now  certitude  about  the  origin  of  lan- 
guages, the  age  of  man,  or  the  evolution  of  species, 
considered  as  philosophical  questions.    Now  theology 
is  at  present  in  the  very  same  state  in  which  natural  sci- 
ence was  five  hundred  years  ago ;  and  this  is  the  proof 
of  it, — that,  instead  of  there  being  one  received  theolo- 
gical science  in  the  world,  there  are  a  multitude  of 
hypotheses.     We  have  a  professed  science  of  Atheism, 
another  of  Deism,  a  Pantheistic,  ever  so  many  Chris- 
tian theologies,  to  say  nothing  of  Judaism,  Islamism, 
and  the  Oriental  religions.     Each  of  these  creeds  has 
its  own  upholders,  and  these  upholders  all  certain  that 
it  is  the  very  and  the  only  truth,  and  these  same  up- 
holders, it  may  happen,  presently  giving  it  up,  and 
then  taking  up  some  other  creed,  and  being  certain 
again,  as  they  profess,  that  it  and  it  only  is  the  truth, 
these  various  so-called  truths  being  incompatible  with 
each  other.     Are  not  Jews  certain  about  their  inter- 
pretation of  their  law  ?  yet  they  become  Christians : 
are  not  Catholics  certain  about  the  new  law  ?  yet  they 
become   Protestants.      At  present  then,  and  as  yet, 
there  is  no  certainty  any  where  about  religious  truth 
at  all ;  it  has  still  to  be  discovered ;  and  therefore  for 
Catholics  to  claim  the  right  to  lay  down  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  theological  science  in  their  own  wa}^  is  to 
assume  the  very  matter  in  dispute.     First  let  their 
doctrines  be  universally  received,  and  then  they  w411 
have  a  right  to  place  them  on  a  level  with  the  cer- 
tainty which  belongs  to  the  laws  of  motion  or  of  re- 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude,  23  r 

fraction.     This  is   the  objection  which  I  propose  to 
consider. 

Now  first  as  to  the  want  of  universal  reception 
which  is  urged  against  the  Catholic  dogmas,  this  part 
of  the  objection  will  not  require  many  words.  Sure- 
ty a  truth  or  a  fact  may  be  certain,  though  it  is  not 
generally  received ; — we  are  each  of  us  ever  gainmg 
through  our  senses  various  certainties,  which  no  one 
shares  with  us  ;  again,  the  certainties  of  the  sciences 
are  in  the  possession  of  a  few  countries  only,  and  for 
the  most  part  only  of  the  educated  classes  in  those 
countries  ;  yet  the  philosophers  of  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica would  feel  certain  that  the  earth  rolled  round  the 
sun,  in  spite  of  the  Indian  belief  of  its  being  supported 
by  an  elephant  with  a  tortoise  under  it.  The  Catho- 
lic Church  then,  though  not  universally  acknow- 
ledged, may  without  inconsistency  claim  to  teach  the 
primary  truths  of  religion,  just  as  modern  science, 
though  but  partially  received,  claims  to  teach  the 
great  principles  and  laws  which  are  the  foundation  of 
secular  knowledge,  and  that  with  a  significance  to 
which  no  other  rehgious  system  can  pretend,  because 
it  is  its  very  profession  to  speak  to  all  mankind,  and 
its  very  badge  to  be  ever  making  converts  all  over 
the  earth,  whereas  other  religions  are  more  or  less 
variable  in  their  teaching,  tolerant  of  each  other,  and 
local,  and  professedly  local,  in  their  Jiabitat  and  char- 
acter. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  main  point  of  the  objec- 
tion ;  the  real  difficulty  lies  not  in  the  variety  of  re 
ligions,  but  in  the  contradiction,  conflict,  and  change 
of  religious  certitudes.     Truth  need  not  be  universal, 
but  it  must  of  necessity  be  certain  ;  and  certainty,  in 


232  Credence, 

order  to  be  certainty,  must  endure  ;  yet  how  is  this 
reasonable  expectation  fulfilled  in  the  case  of  religion  ? 
On  the  contrary,  those  who  have  been  the  most  cer- 
tain in  their  beliefs  are  sometimes  found  to  lose  them, 
Catholics  as  well  as  others ;  and  then  to  take  up  new 
beliefs,  perhaps  contrary  ones,  of  which  they  become 
as  certain  as  if  the}^  had  never  been  certain  of  the 
old. 

In  answering  this  representation,  I  begin  with  re- 
curring to  the  remark  which  I  have  already  made, 
that  assent  and  certitude  have  reference  to  proposi- 
tions, one  by  one.  We  may  of  course  assent  to  a 
number  of  propositions  all  together,  that  is,  we  may 
make  a  number  of  assents  all  at  once  ;  but  in  doing 
so  we  run  the  risk  of  putting  upon  one  level,  and 
treating  as  if  of  the  same  value,  acts  of  the  mind 
which  are  very  different  from  each  other  in  character 
and  circumstance.  An  assent,  indeed,  is  ever  an  as- 
sent ;  but  given  assents  may  be  strong  or  weak,  deli- 
berate or  impulsive,  lasting  or  ephemeral.  Now  a 
reUgion  is  not  a  proposition,  but  a  system ;  it  is  a  rite, 
a  creed,  a  philosophy,  a  rule  of  duty,  all  at  once  ;  and 
to  accept  a  religion  is  neither  a  simple  assent  to  it  nor 
a  complex,  neither  a  conviction  nor  a  prejudice,  nei- 
ther a  notional  assent  nor  a  real,  not  a  mere  act  of 
profession,  nor  of  credence,  nor  of  opinion,  nor  of 
speculation,  but  it  is  a  collection  of  assents,  some  of 
one  description,  some  of  another;  but,  out  of  all  these 
assents,  of  how  many  certitudes?  Certitudes  indeed 
do  not  change,  but  who  shall  pretend  that  assents  are 
indefectible  ? 

For  instance :  the  fundamental  dogma  of  Protest- 
antism is  the  exclusive  authority  of  Holy  Scripture ; 


Indefectihility  of  Certitude.  233 

but  in  holding  this  a  Protestant  holds  a  host  of  propo- 
sitions, exphcitly  or  impUcitly,  and  holds  them  with 
assents  of  various  character.  Among-  these  proposi- 
tions, he  holds  that  Scripture  is  the  Divine  Revelation 
itself,  that  it  is  inspired,  that  nothing  is  true  but  what 
is  there,  that  the  Church  has  no  authority  in  matters 
of  doctrine,  that  the  Church  has  been  condemned 
long  ago  in  the  Apocalypse,  that  St.  John  wrote  the 
Apocalypse,  that  justification  is  by  faith  onl}^,  that  our 
Lord  is  God,  that  there  are  seventy-two  generations 
between  Adam  and  our  Lord.  Now  of  which,  out  of 
all  these  propositions,  is  he  certain  ?  and  to  how  many 
of  them  is  his  assent  of  one  and  the  same  description  ? 
His  belief,  that  Scripture  is  commensurate  with  the 
Divine  Revelation,  is  perhaps  implicit ;  as  to  inspira- 
tion, he  does  not  well  know  what  the  word  means, 
and  his  assent  is  scarcely  more  than  a  profession  ;  that 
no  doctrine  is  true  but  what  can  be  proved  from 
Scripture  he  understands,  and  his  assent  to  it  is  what 
I  have  called  speculative  ;  that  the  Church  has  no 
authority  he  holds  with  a  real  assent  or  belief ;  that 
the  Church  is  condemned  in  the  Apocalypse  is  a 
standing  prejudice ;  that  St.  John  wrote  the  Apoca- 
typse  is  his  opinion ;  that  justification  is  by  faith  only, 
he  professes,  but  scarcely  can  be  said  to  apprehend ; 
that  our  Lord  is  God  perhaps  he  is  certain  ;  that 
there  are  seventy-two  generations  between  Adam 
and  Christ  he  accepts  on  credence.  Yet  if  he  were 
asked  the  question,  he  would  most  probably  answer 
that  he  was  certain  of  the  truth  of  ''  Protestantism," 
though  ''  Protestantism  "  means  these  things  and  a 
hundred  more  all  at  once,  and  though  he  believes  with 
actual  certitude  only  one  of  them  all, — that  indeed  a 


234  Certitude, 

doctrine  of  most  sacred  importance,  but  not  the  dis- 
covery of  Luther  or  Calvin.  He  would  think  it 
enough  to  say  that  he  was  a  foe  to  ''  Romanism  "  and 
^'  Socinianism,"  and  to  avow  that  he  gloried  in  the 
Reformation.  He  looks  upon  each  of  these  religious 
professions,  Protestantism,  Romanism,  Socinianism, 
and  Theism,  merely  as  units,  as  if  they  were  not  each 
made  up  of  many  elements,  as  if  they  had  nothing  in 
common,  as  if  a  transition  from  the  one  to  the  other 
involved  a  simple  obliteration  of  all  that  had  been  as 
yet  written  on  his  mind,  and  v/ould  be  the  reception 
of  a  new  faith. 

When,  then,  we  are  told  that  a  man  has  changed 
from  one  religion  to  another,  the  first  question  which 
we  have  to  ask,  is,  have  the  first  and  the  second  reli- 
gions nothing  in  common  ?  If  they  have  common 
doctrines,  he  has  changed  only  a  portion  of  his  creed, 
not  the  whole ;  and  the  next  question  is,  has  he 
abandoned  those  doctrines  which  are  common  to  his 
new  creed  and  his  old  ?  and  then  again,  was  he  cer- 
tain of  the  old,  or  is  he  certain  of  the  new  ? 

Thus,  of  three  Protestants,  one  becomes  a  Catholic, 
a  second  a  Unitarian,  and  a  third  an  unbeliever  :  how 
is  this  ?  The  first  becomes  a  Catholic,  because  he 
assented,  as  a  Protestant,  to  the  doctrine  of  our 
Lord's  divinity,  with  a  real  assent  and  a  genuine 
conviction,  and  because  this  certitude,  taking  posses- 
sion of  his  mind,  led  him  on  to  Avelcome  the  Catholic 
doctrines  of  the  Real  Presence  and  of  the  Theotocos, 
till  his  Pi-otestantism  fell  off  from  him,  and  he  sub- 
mitted himself  to  the  Church.  The  second  became  a 
Unitarian,  because,  proceeding  on  the  principle  that 
Scripture  was  the   rule  of  faith   and  that   a   man's 


Iiidefectibility  of  Certitude.  235 

private  judgment  was  its  rule  of  interpretation,  and 
finding-  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Nicene  and  Athana- 
sian  Creeds  did  not  follow  by  logical  necessity  from 
the  text  of  Scripture,  he  said  to  himself,  "  The  word 
of  God  has  been  made  of  none  effect  by  the  traditions 
of  men,"  and  therefore  nothing  was  left  for  him  but 
to  profess  what  he  considered  primitive  Christianity, 
and  to  become  a  Humanitarian.    The  third  gradually 
subsided  into  infidelity,  because  he  started  with  the 
Protestant  dogma  that  a  priesthood  was  a  corruption 
of  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel.    First,  then,  he  would 
protest   against  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass ;    next  he 
gave  up  baptismal  regeneration,  and  the  sacramental 
principle ;    then  he  asked    himself  whether  dogmas 
were  not  a  restraint  on  Christian  liberty  as  well  as 
sacraments ;  then  came  the  question,  what  after  all 
was  the  use  of  teachers  of  religion  ?  why  should  any 
one  stand  between  him  and  his  Maker  ?    After  a  time 
it  struck  him,  that  this  obvious  question  had  to  be 
answered  by  the  Apostles  as  well  as  by  the  Anglican 
clergy ;  so  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  true 
and  only  revelation  of  God  to  man  is  that  which  is 
written  on  the  heart.     This  did  for  a  time,  and  he 
remained  a  Deist.     But  then  it  occurred  to  him,  that 
this  inward  moral  law  was  there  within  the  breast, 
whether  there  was  a  God  or  not,  and  that  it  was  a 
roundabout  way  of  enforcing  that  law,  to  say  that  it 
came  from  God,  and  simply  unnecessary,  considering 
it  carried  with  it  its  own  sacred  and  sovereign  au- 
thority, as  our  feelings   instinctively   testified  ;    and 
when  he  turned  to  look  at  the  physical  world  around 
him,  he  really  did  not  see  what  scientific  proof  there 
was  there  of  the  Being  of  God  at  all,  and  it  seemed 


236  Certitude, 

to  him  as  if  all  things  would  go  on  quite  as  well  as 
at  present,  without  that  hypothesis  as  with  it ;  so 
he  dropped  it,  and  became  a  piiriis,  pittiis  Atheist. 

Now  the  world  will  say,  that  in  these  three  cases 
old  certitudes  were  lost,  and  new  Avere  gained  ;  but 
it  is  not  so  :  each  of  the  three  men  started  with  just 
one  certitude,  as  he  would  have  himself  professed, 
had  he  examined  himself  narrowly  ;  and  he  carried  it 
out  and  carried  it  with  him  into  a  new  system  of 
belief.  He  was  true  to  that  one  conviction  from  first 
to  last ;  and  on  looking  back  on  the  past,  would  per- 
haps insist  upon  this,  and  say  he  had  really  been 
consistent  all  through,  w^hen  others  made  much  of  his 
great  changes  in  religious  opinion.  He  has  indeed 
made  serious  additions  to  his  initial  ruling  principle, 
but  he  has  lost  no  conviction  of  which  he  was  origin- 
ally possessed. 

I  will  take  one  more  instance.  A  man  is  converted 
to  the  Catholic  Church  from  his  admiration  of  its 
religious  system,  and  his  disgust  v/ith  Protestantism. 
That  admiration  remains  ;  but,  after  a  time,  he  leaves 
his  new  faith,  perhaps  returns  to  his  old.  The  reason, 
if  we  ma}^  conjecture,  may  sometimes  be  this  :  he  has 
never  believed  in  the  Church's  infallibility ;  in  her 
doctrinal  truth  he  has  believed,  but  in  her  infallibility, 
no.  He  was  asked,  before  he  was  received,  whether 
he  held  all  that  the  Church  taught,  he  replied  he 
did  ;  but  he  understood  the  question  to  mean,  whether 
he  held  those  particular  doctrines  "  which  at  that  time 
the  Church  in  matter  of  fact  formally  taught,"  where- 
as it  really  meant  '^  whatever  the  Church  then  or  at 
any  future  time  should  teach."  Thus,  he  never  had  the 
indispensable  and  elementary  faith  of  a  Catholic,  and 


hidefectibility  of  Ceiditude.  237 

was  simply  no  subject  for  reception  into  the  fold  of 
the  Church.  This  being  the  case,  when  the  Imma- 
culate Conception  is  defined,  he  feels  that  it  is  some- 
thing more  than  he  bargained  for  when  he  became  a 
Catholic,  and  accordingly  he  gives  up  his  religious 
profession.  The  world  will  say  that  he  has  lost  his 
certitude  of  the  divinity  of  the  Catholic  Faith,  but  he 
never  had  it. 

The  first  point  to  be  ascertained,  then,  when  we 
hear  of  a  change  of  religious  certitude  in  another,  is, 
what  the  doctrines  are  on  which  his  so-called  certi- 
tude before  now  and  at  present  has  respectively  fallen. 
All  doctrines  besides  these  were  the  accidents  of  his 
profession,  and  the  indefectibility  of  certitude  would 
not  be  disproved,  though  he  changed  them  every 
year.  There  are  few  religions  which  have  no  points 
in  common ;  and  these,  whether  true  or  false,  when 
embraced  with  an  absolute  conviction,  are  the  pivots 
on  which  changes  take  place  in  that  collection  of  cre- 
dences, opinions,  prejudices,  and  other  assents,  which 
make  up  what  is  called  a  man's  selection  and  adop- 
tion of  a  form  of  religion,  a  denomination,  or  a  Church. 
There  have  been  Protestants  whose  idea  of  enlight- 
ened Christianity  has  been  a  strenuous  antagonism  to 
what  they  consider  the  unmanliness  and  unreasona- 
bleness of  Catholic  morality,  an  antipathy  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  patience,  meekness,  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
and  chastity.  All  this  they  have  considered  a  wo- 
man's religion,  the  ornament  of  monks,  of  the  sick, 
the  feeble,  and  the  old.  Lust,  revenge,  ambition, 
courage,  pride,  these,  they  have  fancied,  made  the 
man,  and  want  of  them  the  slave.  No  one  could 
fairly  accuse  such  men  of  any  great  change  of  their 


convictions,  or  point  a  moral  with  the  defectibility 
of  certitude,  if  they  were  one  day  found  to  have 
taken  up  the  profession  of  Islam. 

And  if  this  intercommunion  of  religions  holds  good, 
even  when  the  common  points  between  them  are  but 
errors  held  in  common,  much  more  natural  will  be 
the  transition  from  one  religion  to  another,  without 
injury  to  existing  certitudes,  when  the  common  points, 
the  objects  of  those  certitudes,  are  truths ;  and  still 
stronger  in  that  case  and  more  constraining  will  be 
the  sympathy,  with  which  minds  that  love  truth, 
even  when  they  have  surrounded  it  with  error,  will 
yearn  towards  the  Catholic  faith,  which  contains 
within  itself,  and  claims  as  its  own,  all  truth  that  is 
elsewhere  to  be  found,  and  more  than  all,  and  nothing 
but  truth.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  influence,  b}^ 
which  the  Church  draws  to  herself  converts  from  such 
various  and  conflicting  religions.  They  come,  not  to 
lose  what  they  have,  but  to  gain  what  they  have  not ; 
and  in  order  that,  by  means  of  what  they  have,  more 
may  be  given  to  them.  St.  Augustine  tells  us  that 
there  is  no  false  teaching  without  an  intermixture  of 
truth ;  and  it  is  by  the  light  of  those  particular  truths, 
contained  respectively  in  the  various  religions  of  men^ 
and  by  our  certitudes  about  them,  which  are  possible 
wherever  those  truths  are  found,  that  we  pick  our 
way,  slowly  perhaps,  but  surely,  into  the  One  Religion 
ivhich  God  has  given,  taking  our  certitudes  with 
us,  not  to  lose,  but  to  keep  them  more  securely 
and  to  understand  and  love  their  objects  more  per- 
fectly. 

Not  even  are  idolaters  and  heathens  out  of  the  ransre 
of  some  of  these  religious  truths  and  their  correlative 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude,  239 

certitudes.  The  old  Greek  and  Roman  polytheists 
had,  as  they  show  in  their  literature,  clear  and  strong 
notions,  nay,  vivid  mental  images,  of  a  Particular 
Providence,  of  the  power  of  Prayer,  of  the  rule  of 
Divine  Governance,  of  the  law  of  conscience,  of  sin 
and  guilt,  of  expiation  by  means  of  sacrifices,  and  ot 
future  retribution ;  I  will  even  add,  of  the  Unity  and 
Pcrsonahty  of  the  Supreme  Being.  This  it  is  that 
throws  such  a  magnificent  light  over  the  Homeric 
poems,  the  tragic  choruses,  and  the  Odes  of  Pindar; 
and  it  has  its  counterpart  in  the  philosophy  of  Soc- 
rates and  the  Stoics,  and  in  such  historians  as  Hero- 
dotus. It  would  be  out  of  place  to  speak  confidently 
of  a  state  of  society  which  has  passed  away,  but  at 
first  sight  it  does  not  appear  why  the  truths  which 
I  have  enumerated  should  not  have  received  as 
genuine  and  deliberate  an  assent  on  the  part  of  Soc- 
rates or  Cleanthes  (of  course  with  divine  aids,  but 
they  do  not  enter  into  this  discussion),  as  was  given  to 
them  by  St.  John  or  St.  Paul,  nay,  an  assent  which 
rose  to  certitude.  Much  more  safely  may  it  be  pro- 
nounced of  a  Mahometan,  that  he  may  have  a  certi- 
tude of  the  Divine  Unity,  as  well  as  a  Christian  ;  and 
of  a  Jew,  that  he  may  beheve  as  truly  as  a  Christian 
in  the  resurrection  of  the  body ;  and  of  a  Unitarian 
that  he  can  give  a  dehberate  and  real  assent  to  the 
fact  of  a  supernatural  revelation,  to  the  Christian 
miracles,  to  the  eternal  moral  law,  and  to  the  immor- 
tahty  of  the  soul.  And  so,  again,  a  Protestant  may, 
not  only  in  w^ords,  but  in  mind  and  heart,  hold,  as  if 
he  were  a  Catholic,  with  simple  certitude,  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Holy  Trinity,  of  the  fall  of  man,  of  the 
need  of  regeneration,  of  the  efficacy  of  Divine  Grace, 


240  Certihtde, 

and  of  the  possibilit}^  and  danger  of  falling  away. 
And  thus  it  is  conceivable  that  a  man  might  travel  in 
his  religious  profession  all  the  way  from  heathenism 
to  Catholicity,  through  Mahometanism,  Judaism, 
Unitarianism,  Protestantism,  and  Anglicanism,  with- 
out any  one  certitude  lost,  but  Avith  a  continual 
accumulation  of  truths,  which  claimed  from  him  and 
elicited  in  his  intellect  fresh  and  fresh  certitudes. 

In  saying  all  this,  I  do  not  forget  that  the  same 
doctrines,  as  held  in  different  religions,  may  be  and 
often  are  held  very  differently,  as  belonging  to  dis- 
tinct wholes  or  forms,  as  they  are  called,  and  exposed 
to  the  influence  and  the  bias  of  the  teaching,  perhaps 
false,  with  which  they  are  associated.  Thus,  for 
instance,  whatever  be  the  resemblance  between  St. 
Augustine's  doctrine  of  Predestination  and  the  tenet 
of  Calvin  upon  it,  the  two  really  differ  from  each 
other  toto  ccvlo  in  significance  and  effect,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  place  they  hold  in  the  systems  in  which 
they  are  respectively  incorporated,  just  as  shades  and 
tints  show  so  differently  in  a  painting  according  to 
the  masses  of  color  to  which  they  are  attached.  But, 
in  spite  of  this,  a  man  may  so  hold  the  doctrine  of 
personal  election  as  a  Calvinist,  as  to  be  able  still  to 
hold  it  as  a  CathoKc. 

However,  I  have  been  speaking  of  certitudes  which 
remain  unimpaired,  or  rather  confirmed,  by  a  change 
of  religion ;  but  there  are  others,  whether  we  call 
them  certitudes  or  convictions,  which  perish  in  the 
change,  as  St.  Paul's  conviction  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  Jewish  Law  came  to  an  end  on  his  becoming  a 
Christian.  Now  how  is  such  a  series  of  facts  to  be 
reconciled  with  the  doctrine  which  I  have  been  en- 


liidefectibility  of  Certitude,  241 

forcing?  What  conviction  could  be  stronger  than 
the  faith  of  the  Jews  in  the  perpetuity  of  the  Mosaic 
system?  Those,  then,  who  abandoned  Judaism  for 
the  Gospel,  surely,  in  so  doing,  bore  the  most  em- 
phatic of  testimonies  to  the  defectibility  of  certitude. 
And,  in  like  manner,  a  Mahometan  may  be  so  deeply 
convinced  that  Mahomet  is  the  prophet  of  God,  that  it 
would  be  only  by  a  quibble  about  the  meaning  of  the 
word  '^  certitude  "  that  we  could  maintain,  that,  on 
his  becoming  a  Catholic,  he  did  not  unequivocally 
prove  that  certitude  is  defectible.  And  it  may  be 
argued,  perhaps,  in  the  case  of  some  members  of  the 
Church  of  England,  that  their  faith  in  the  validity  of 
Anglican  orders,  and  the  invisibility  of  the  Church's 
unity,  is  so  absolute,  so  deliberate,  that  their  aban- 
donment of  it,  did  they  become  Catholics  or  scep- 
tics, would  be  tantamount  to  the  abandonment  of  a 
certitude. 

Now,  in  meeting  this  difficulty,  I  will  not  urge  (lest 
I  should  be  accused  of  quibbling),  that  certitude  is  a 
conviction  of  what  is  true,  and  that  these  so-called  cer- 
titudes have  come  to  naught,  because,  their  objects  be- 
ing errors,  not  truths,  they  really  were  not  certitudes 
at  all ;  nor  will  I  insist,  as  I  might,  that  they  ought  to 
be  proved  first  to  be  something  more  than  mere  pre- 
judices, assents  without  reason  and  judgment,  before 
they  can  fairly  be  taken  as  instances  of  the  defectibili- 
ty of  certitude ;  but  I  simply  ask,  as  regards  the  zeal 
of  the  Jews  for  the  sufficiency  of  their  law  (even 
though  genuine  certitude,  not  a  prejudice,  not  a  mere 
conviction),  still  was  such  zeal,  such  professed  certi- 
tude, found  in  those  who  were  eventually  converted, 
or  in  those  whQ  were  not ;  for,  if  those  who  had  not 


242  Certitude, 

that  certitude  became  Christians  and  those  who  had 
it  remained  Jews,  then  loss  of  certitude  in  the  latter 
is  not  instanced  in  the  fact  of  the  conversion  of  the 
former.  St.  Paul  certainly  is  an  exception,  but  his 
conversion,  as  also  his  after-life,  was  miraculous;  or- 
dinarily speaking,  it  was  not  the  zealots  who  supplied 
members  to  the  Catholic  Church,  but  those  ''men  of 
good  will,"  who,  instead  of  considering  the  law  as 
perfect  and  eternal,  "looked  for  the  redemption  of 
Israel,"  and  for  "the  knowledge  of  salvation  in  the 
remission  of  sins."  And,  in  like  manner,  as  to  those 
learned  and  devout  men  among  the  Anglicans  at  the 
present  day,  who  come  so  near  the  Church  without 
acknowledging  her  claims,  I  ask  whether  there  are  not 
two  classes  among  them  also, — those  who  are  looking 
out  beyond  their  own  body  for  the  perfect  wa}^  and 
those  on  the  other  hand  who  teach  that  the  Anglican 
communion  is  the  golden  mean  between  men  who  be- 
lieve too  much  and  men  who  beheve  too  little,  the 
centre  of  unity  to  which  East  and  West  are  destined 
to  gravitate,  the  instrument  and  the  mould,  as  the 
Jews  might  think  of  their  own  moribund  institutions, 
through  which  the  kingdom  of  Christ  is  to  be  estab- 
lished all  over  the  earth.  And  next  I  would  ask, 
which  of  these  two  classes  supplies  converts  to  the 
Church;  for  if  they  come  from  among  those  who 
never  professed  to  be  quite  certain  of  the  special 
strength  of  the  Anglican  position,  such  men  cannot 
be  quoted  as  instances  of  the  defectibility  of  certi- 
tude. 

There  is  indeed  another  class  of  beliefs,  of  which  I 
must  take  notice,  the  failure  of  which  may  be  taken 
at  first  sight  as  a  proof  that  certitude  may  be  lost. 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude.  243 

Yet  they  clearly  deserve  no  other  name  than  preju- 
dices, as  being  founded  upon  reports  of  facts,  or  on 
arguments,  which  will  not  bear  careful  examination. 
Such  was  the  disgust  felt  towards  our  predecessors 
in  primitive  times,  the  Christians  of  the  first  centu- 
ries, as  a  secret  society,  as  a  conspiracy  against  the 
civil  power,  as  a  set  of  mean,  sordid,  despicable  fana- 
tics, as  monsters  revelling  in  blood  and  impurity. 
Such  also  is  the  deep  prejudice  now  against  the 
Church  among  Protestants,  who  dress  her  up  in  the 
most  hideous  and  loathsome  images,  which  rightly 
attach,  in  the  prophetic  descriptions,  to  the  evil  spirit, 
his  agents  and  instruments.  Such  too  are  the  num- 
berless calumnies  directed  against  individuals  among 
us,  against  religious  bodies,  and  men  in  authority, 
w^hich  serve  to  feed  and  sustain  the  suspicion  and  dis- 
like with  which  everything  Catholic  is  regarded  in 
this  country.  But  as  a  persistence  in  such  prejudices 
is  no  evidence  of  their  truth,  so  an  abandonment  of 
them  is  no  evidence  that  certitude  can  fail. 

There  is  yet  another  class  of  prejudices  against  the 
Catholic  Religion,  which  is  far  more  tolerable  and  in- 
telligible than  those  on  w^hich  I  have  been  dwelling, 
but  still  in  no  sense  certitudes.  Indeed,  I  doubt 
whether  they  Avould  be  considered  more  than  pre- 
sumptive opinions  by  the  persons  who  entertain  them. 
Such  is  the  idea  which  has  possessed  certain  philoso- 
phers, ancient  and  modern,  that  miracles  are  an  in- 
fringement and  disfigurement  of  the  beautiful  order 
of  nature.  Such,  too,  is  the  persuasion,  common 
among  political  and  literary  men,  that  the  Catholic 
Church  is  inconsistent  with  the  true  interests  of  the 
human    race,    with    social    progress,    with    rational 


244  Certitude. 

freedom,    with  good    government.      A   renunciation 
of  these  imaginations  is  not  a  change  in  certitudes. 

So  much  on  this  subject.  All  concrete  laws  are 
general,  and  persons,  as  such,  do  not  fall  under  laws. 
Still,  I  have  gone  a  good  way,  as  I  think,  to  remove 
the  objections  to  the  doctrine  of  the  indefectibility  of 
certitude  in  matters  of  religion. 

6. 

One  further  remark  may  be  made.  Certitude  does 
not  admit  of  an  interior,  immediate  test,  sufficient  to 
discriminate  it  from  false  certitude.  Such  a  test  is 
rendered  impossible  from  the  circumstance  that,  when 
we  make  the  mental  act  expressed  by  ''  I  know,"  we 
sum  up  the  whole  series  of  reflex  judgments  which 
might,  each  in  turn,  successively  exercise  a  critical 
function  towards  those  of  them  which  precede  it. 
But  still,  if  it  is  the  general  rule  that  certitude  is  in- 
defectible, will  not  that  indefectibility  itself  become 
at  least  in  the  event  a  criterion  of  the  genuineness  of 
the  certitude  ?  or  is  there  any  rival  state  or  habit  of 
the  intellect,  which  claims  to  be  indefectible  also?  A 
few  words  will  suffice  to  answer  these  questions. 

Premising  that  all  rules  are  but  general,  especially 
those  which  relate  to  the  mind,  I  observe  that  inde- 
fectibility may  at  least  serve  as  a  negative  test  of  cer- 
titude, or  sine  qua  non  condition,  so  that  w^hoever 
loses  his  conviction  on  a  given  point  is  thereby  proved 
not  to  have  been  certain  of  it.  Certitude  ought  to 
stand  all  trials,  or  it  is  not  certitude.  Its  very  office 
is  to  cherish  and  maintain  its  object,  and  its  very  lot 
and  duty  is  to  sustain  rude  shocks  in  maintenance  of 
it  without  being  damaged  by  them. 


Indefectibility  of  Certitude,  245 

I  will  take  an  example.  Let  us  suppose  Ave  are  told 
on  an  unimpeachable  authority,  that  a  man  whom  we 
saw  die  is  now  alive  again  and  at  his  work,  as  it  was 
his  wont  to  be  ;  let  us  suppose  we  actually  see  him  and 
converse  with  him  ;  what  will  become  of  our  certitude 
of  his  death  ?  I  do  not  think  we  should  give  it  up ; 
how  could  we,  when  we  actually  saw  him  die?  At 
first,  indeed,  we  should  be  thrown  into  an  astonish- 
ment and  confusion  so  great,  that  the  world  Avould 
seem  to  reel  round  us,  and  we  should  be  ready  to 
give  up  the  use  of  our  senses  and  of  our  memory,  of 
our  reflective  powers,  and  of  our  reason,  and  even  to 
deny  our  power  of  thinking,  and  our  existence  itself. 
Such  confidence  have  we  in  the  doctrine  that  when 
life  2"oes  it  never  returns.  Nor  would  our  bewilder- 
ment  be  less,  Avhen  the  first  blow  was  over;  but  our 
reason  would  rally,  and  with  our  reason  our  certitude 
would  come  back  to  us.  Whatever  came  of  it,  we 
should  never  cease  to  know  and  to  confess  to  our- 
selves both  of  the  contrary  facts,  that  we  saw  him  die, 
and  that  after  dying  we  saw  him  ahve  again.  The 
overpowering  strangeness  of  our  experience  would 
have  no  power  to  shake  our  certitude  in  the  facts 
which  created  it. 

Again,  let  us  suppose,  for  argument's  sake,  that 
ethnologists,  philologists,  anatomists,  and  antiquarians 
agreed  together  in  separate  demonstrations  that  there 
were  half  a  dozen  races  of  men,  and  that  they  were 
all  descended  from  gorillas,  or  chimpanzees,  or 
orang-outangs,  or  baboons;  moreover,  that  Adam 
was  an  historical  personage,  with  a  well-ascertained 
dweUing-place,  surroundings  and  date,  in  a  compara- 
tively modern  world.     On  the  other  hand,  let  me  be- 


246  Certitude. 

lieve  that  the  Word  of  God  Himself  distinctly  declares 
that  there  were  no  men  before  Adam,  that  he  was 
immediately  made  out  of  the  shme  of  the  earth,  and 
that  he  is  the  first  father  of  all  men  that  are  or  ever 
have  been.  Here  is  a  contradiction  of  statements 
more  direct  than  in  the  former  instance  ;  the  two  can- 
not stand  together;  one  or  other  of  them  is  untrue. 
But  wdiatever  means  I  might  be  led  to  take,  for 
making,  if  possible,  the  antagonism  tolerable,  I  con- 
ceive I  should  never  give  up  my  certitude  in  that 
truth  which  I  firml}^  believed  to  come  from  heaven. 
If  I  so  believed,  I  should  not  pretend  to  argue,  or  to 
defend  myself  to  others  ;  I  should  be  patient ;  I  should 
look  for  better  days  ;  but  I  should  still  believe.  If, 
indeed,  I  had  hitherto  only  half  believed,  if  I  beheved 
with  an  assent  short  of  certitude,  or  with  an  acquies- 
cence short  of  assent,  then  the  case  would  be  altered  ; 
but  if,  after  full  consideration,  and  avaihng  myself  of 
my  best  lights,  I  did  think  that  beyond  all  question 
God  spoke  as  I  thought  He  did,  philosophers  and 
experimentalists  might  take  their  course  for  me, —  I 
should  consider  that  they  and  I  thought  and  reasoned 
in  different  mediums,  and  that  my  certitude  was  as  little 
in  collision  w4th  them  or  damaged  by  them,  as  if  they 
attempted  to  counteract  in  some  great  matter  chemi- 
cal action  by  the  force  of  gravity,  or  to  weigh  magne- 
tic influence  against  capillary  attraction.  Of  course, 
I  am  putting  an  impossible  case,  for  philosophical 
discoveries  cannot  really  contradict  divine  revelation. 
So  much  on  the  indefectibility  of  certitude ;  as  to 
the  question  whether  any  other  assent  is  indefectible 
besides  it,  I  think  prejudice  may  be  such  ;  but  it  can- 
not be  confused  with  certitude,  for  the  one   is   an 


Indefedibility  of  Certitude,  247 

assent  previous  to  rational  grounds,  and  the  other  an 
assent  expressly  after  careful  examination. 

It  seems  then  that  on  the  whole  there  are  three 
conditions  of  certitude :  that  it  follows  on  investiga- 
tion and  proof,  that  it  is  accompanied  by  a  specific 
sense  of  intellectual  satisfaction  and  repose,  and  that 
it  is  irreversible.  If  the  assent  is  made  without  ration- 
al grounds,  it  is  a  rash  judgment,  a  fancy,  or  a  preju- 
dice; if  without  the  sense  of  finality,  it  is  scarcely 
more  than  an  inference  ;  if  without  permanence,  it  is 
a  mere  conviction. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

INFERENCE. 

§  I.  Formal  Inference. 

Inference  is  the  conditional  acceptance  of  a  propo- 
sition, Assent  is  the  unconditional ;  the  object  of  As- 
sent is  a  truth,  the  object  of  Inference  is  the  truth-like 
or  a  verisimilitude.  The  problem  which  I  have  un- 
dertaken is  that  of  ascertaining  how  it  comes  to  pass 
that  a  conditional  act  leads  to  an  unconditional ;  and, 
having  now  shown  that  assent  really  is  unconditional, 
I  proceed  to  show  how  inferential  exercises,  as  such, 
always  must  be  conditional. 

We  reason,  when  we  hold  this  by  virtue  of  that ; 
whether  w^e  hold  it  as  evident  or  as  approximating  or 
tending  to  be  evident,  in  either  case  we  so  hold  it 
because  of  holding  something  else  to  be  evident  or 
tending  to  be  evident.  In  the  next  place,  our  reason- 
ing ordinarily  presents  itself  to  our  mind  as  a  simple 
act,  not  a  process  or  series  of  acts.  We  apprehend 
the  antecedent  and  then  apprehend  the  consequent, 
without  explicit  recognition  of  the  medium  connect- 
ing the  two,  as  if  by  a  sort  of  direct  association  of  the 
first  thought  wdth  the  second.     We  proceed  by  a  sort 


Formal  Ififei^ence.  249 

of  instinctive  perception,  from  premiss  to  conclusion. 
I  call  it  instinctive,  not  as  if  the  faculty  were  one  and 
the  same  to  all  men  in  strength  and  quahty  (as  we 
generally  conceive  of  instinct),  but  because  ordinarily, 
or  at  least  often,  it  acts  by  a  spontaneous  impulse,  as 
prompt  and  inevitable  as  the  exercise  of  sense  and 
memory.  We  perceive  external  objects,  and  Ave  re- 
member past  events,  without  knowing  how  we  do  so  ; 
and  in  like  manner  we  reason  without  effort  and  in- 
tention, or  any  necessary  consciousness  of  the  path 
which  the  mind  takes  in  passing  from  antecedent  to 
conclusion. 

Such  is  ratiocination,  in  what  may  be  called  a  state 
of  nature,  as  it  is  found  in  the  uneducated, — nay,  in 
all  men,  in  its  ordinary  exercise  ;  nor  is  there  any 
antecedent  ground  for  determining  that  it  will  not  be 
as  correct  in  its  informations,  as  it  is  instinctive,  as 
trustworthy  as  sensible  perception  and  memory, 
though  its  informations  are  not  so  immediate  and  have 
a  wider  range.  By  means  of  sense  we  gain  knowledge 
directly  ;  by  means  of  reasoning  Ave  gain  it  indirectly, 
that  is,  by  virtue  of  a  previous  knoAvledge.  And  if 
Ave  ma}^  justly  regard  the  universe,  according  to  the 
meaning  of  the  Avord,  as  one  Avhole,  Ave  may  also  bc- 
licA^e  justly  that  to  knoAV  one  part  of  it  is  necessarily 
to  knoAv  much  more  than  that  one  part.  This  thought 
leads  us  to  a  further  vicAv  of  ratiocination.  The  pro- 
verb says,  ''  Ex  pede  Herculem  ;"  and  Ave  have  actual 
experience  hoAv  the  practised  zoologist  can  build  up 
some  intricate  organization  from  the  sight  of  its 
smallest  bone,  CA^oking  the  Avhole  as  if  it  Avere  a  re- 
membrance ;  hoAV,  again,  a  philosophical  antiquarian, 
by  means  of  an  inscription,  interprets  the  mj^thical 


250  Inference. 

traditions  of  former  ages,  and  niakes  the  past  live  ; 
and  how  a  Columbus  is  led,  from  considerations  which 
are  common  property,  and  fortuitous  phenomena 
Avhich  are  successively  brought  to  his  notice,  to  have 
such  faith  in  a  western  world,  as  w^illingly  to  commit 
himself  to  the  terrors  of  a  mysterious  ocean  in  order 
to  arrive  at  it.  That  which  the  mind  is  able  thus 
variously  to  bring  together  into  unity,  must  have 
some  real  intrinsic  connexion  of  part  Avith  part.  But 
if  this  suniina  rerinn  is  thus  one  whole,  it  must  be  con- 
structed on  definite  principles  and  laws,  the  knowledge 
of  which  will  enlarge  our  capacity  of  reasoning  about 
particulars ; — thus  we  are  led  on  to  aim  at  determin- 
ing on  a  large  scale  and  on  system,  wdiat  even  gifted 
or  practised  intellects  by  their  own  personal  vigor 
are  only  able  to  reach  piecemeal  and  fitfully,  that  is, 
at  substituting  scientific  methods,  such  as  all  may  use, 
for  the  action  of  individual  genius. 

There  is  another  reason  for  attempting  to  discover 
an  instrument  of  reasoning  (that  is,  of  gaining  new 
truths  by  means  of  old),  which  may  be  less  vague 
and  arbitrary  than  the  talent  and  experience  of  the 
few  or  the  common-sense  of  the  many.  As  memor}^ 
is  not  always  accurate,  and  has  on  that  account  led  to 
the  adoption  of  writing,  as  being  a  mcvioria  tecJinica^ 
unaffected  by  the  failure  of  mental  impressions, — as 
our  senses  at  times  deceive  us,  and  have  to  be  cor- 
rected by  each  other  ;  so  is  it  also  with  our  reasoning 
faculty.  The  conclusions  of  one  man  are  not  the 
conclusions  of  another  ;  those  of  the  same  man  do  not 
always  agree  together ;  those  of  ever  so  many  Avho 
agree  together  may  differ  from  the  facts  themselves, 
which  those  conclusions  are  intended  to  ascertain.    In 


Formal  Inference.  251 

consequence  it  becomes  a  necessity,  if  it  be  possible, 
to  analyze  the  process  of  reasoning,  and  to  invent  a 
method  Avhich  may  act  as  a  common  measure  between 
mind  and  mind,  as  a  means  of  joint  investigation,  and 
as  a  recognized  intellectual  standard, — a  standard 
such  as  to  secure  us  against  hopeless  mistakes,  and 
to  emancipate  us  from  the  capricious  ipse  dixit  of 
authority. 

As  the  index  on  the  dial  notes  down  the  sun's  course 
in  the  heavens,  as  a  key,  revolving  through  the  intri- 
cate wards  of  the  lock,  opens  for  us  a  treasure-house, 
so  let  us,  if  we  can,  provide  ourselves  with  some  ready 
expedient  to  serve  as  a  true  record  of  the  S3^stem  of 
objective  truth,  and  an  available  rule  for  interpreting 
its  phenomena ;  or  at  least  let  us  go  as  far  as  we  can 
in  providing  it.  One  such  experimental  key  is  the 
science  of  geometry,  which,  in  a  certain  department 
of  nature,  substitutes  a  collection  of  true  principles, 
fruitful  and  interminable  in .  consequences,  for  the 
guesses,  pro  re  natd,  of  our  intellect,  and  saves  it 
both  the  labor  and  the  risk  of  guessing.  Another  far 
more  subtle  and  effective  instrument  is  algebraical 
science,  which  acts  as  a  spell  in  unlocking  for  us, 
Avithout  merit  or  effort  of  our  own,  the  arcana  of  the 
concrete  physical  universe.  A  more  ambitious,  be- 
cause a  more  comprehensive  contrivance  still,  for  in- 
terpreting the  concrete  world  is  the  method  of  logical 
inference.  What  we  desiderate  is  something  which 
may  supersede  the  need  of  personal  gifts  by  a  far- 
reaching  and  infallible  rule.  Now,  without  external 
symbols  to  mark  out  and  to  steady  its  course,  the  in- 
tellect runs  wild ;  but  v/ith  the  aid  of  symbols,  as  in 
algebra,  it  advances  with  precision  and  effect.     Let 


252  Inference, 

then  our  symbols  be  words:  let  all  thought  be  ar- 
rested and  embodied  in  Avords.  Let  language  have  a 
monopoly  of  thought;  and  thought  go  for  only  so 
much  as  it  can  show  itself  to  be  worth  in  language. 
Let  every  prompting  of  the  intellect  be  ignored,  every 
viomentum  of  argument  be  disowned,  which  is  unpro- 
vided Avith  an  equivalent  wording,  as  its  ticket  for 
sharing  in  the  common  search  after  truth.  Let  the 
authority  of  nature,  common  sense,  experience,  ge- 
nius, go  for  nothing.  Ratiocination,  thus  restricted 
and  put  into  grooves,  is  what  I  have  called  Infer- 
ence, and  the  science,  which  is  its  regulating  princi- 
ple, is  Logic. 

The  first  step  in  the  inferential  method  is  to  throw 
the  question  to  be  decided  into  the  form  of  a  proposi- 
tion ;  then  to  throw  the  proof  itself  into  propositions, 
the  force  of  the  proof  lying  in  the  comparison  of  these 
propositions  with  each  other.  When  the  analysis  is 
carried  out  fully  and  put  into  form,  it  becomes  the 
Aristotelic  syllogism.  However,  an  inference  need 
not  be  expressed  thus  technically ;  an  enth3aTieme 
fulfils  the  requirements  of  what  I  have  called  Infer- 
ence. So  does  any  other  form  of  words  with  the 
mere  grammatical  expressions,  ''for,"  "therefore," 
''supposing,"  "so  that,"  "similarly,"  and  the  like. 
Verbal  reasoning,  of  whatever  kind,  as  opposed  to 
mental,  is  what  I  mean  by  inference,  which  differs 
from  logic  only  inasmuch  as  logic  is  its  scientific 
form.  And  it  will  be  more  convenient  here  to  use 
the  two  words  indiscriminately,  for  I  shall  say  nothing 
about  logic  v/hich  does  not  in  its  substance  also  apply 
to  inference. 

Logical  inference,  then,  being  such,  and  its  purpose 


Formal  Inference,  253 

such  as  I  have  described,  the  question  follows,  how 
far  it  answers  for  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  used.  It 
proposes  to  provide  both  a  test  and  a  common  mea- 
sure of  reasoning ;  and  I  think  it  will  be  found  partly 
to  succeed  and  partly  to  fail;  succeeding  so  far  as 
words  can  in  fact  be  found  to  represent  the  countless 
varieties  and  subtleties  of  human  thought,  failing  on 
account  of  the  fallacy  of  the  original  assumption,  that 
Avhatever  can  be  thought  can  be  adequately  expressed 
in  words. 

In  the  first  place,  inference,  being  conditional,  is 
hampered  with  other  propositions,  besides  that  which 
is  especially  its  own,  that  is,  with  the  premisses  as 
well  as  the  conclusion,  and  w4th  the  rules  connecting 
the  latter  with  the  former.  It  views  its  own  proper 
proposition  in  the  medium  of  prior  propositions,  and 
measures  it  by  them.  It  does  not  hold  a  proposition 
for  its  own  sake,  but  as  dependent  upon  others,  and 
those  others  it  entertains  for  the  sake  of  the  conclu- 
sion. Thus  it  is  practically  far  more  concerned  with 
the  comparison  of  propositions,  than  with  the  propo- 
sitions themselves.  It  is  obliged  to  regard  all  the 
propositions,  with  which  it  has  to  do,  not  so  much 
for  their  own  sake,  as  for  the  sake  of  each  other,  as 
regards  the  identity  or  likeness,  independence  or  dis- 
similarity, which  has  to  be  mutually  predicated  of 
them.  It  follows  from  this,  that  the  more  simple  and 
definite  are  the  words  of  a  proposition,  and  the  less 
their  meaning,  and  the  more  that  meaning  in  each 
proposition  is  restricted  to  the  relation  which  it  has 
to  the  words  of  the  other  propositions  compared  with 
it, — in  other  words,  the  nearer  the  propositions  con- 
cerned in  the  inference  approach  to  being  mental  ab- 


2  54  Inference, 

stractions,  and  the  less  they  have  to  do  Avith  the  con- 
crete reality,  and  the  more  closely  they  are  made  to 
express  definite,  intelligible,  comprehensible,  commu- 
nicable notions,  and  the  less  they  stand  for  objective 
things,  that  is,  the  more  they  are  the  subjects,  not 
of  real,  but  of  notional  apprehension, — so  much  the 
more  suitable  do  they  become  for  the  purposes  of  in- 
ference. 

Hence  it  is  that  no  process  of  argument  is  so  per- 
fect as  that  which  is  conducted  by  means  of  symbols. 
In  Arithmetic  i  is  i,  and  just  i,  and  never  any  thing 
else  but  i ;  it  never  is  2,  it  has  no  tendency  to  change 
its  meaning,  and  to  become  2 ;  it  has  no  portion,  qua- 
lity, admixture  of  2  in  its  meaning.  And  6  under  all 
circumstances  is  3  times  2,  and  the  sum  of  2  and  4; 
nor  can  the  whole  world  supply  any  thing  to  throw 
doubt  upon  these  elementary  positions.  Take,  by 
contrast,  the  Avord  ''inference,"  Avhich  I  have  been 
using :  it  may  stand  for  the  act  of  inferring,  as  I  have 
used  it ;  or  for  the  connecting  principle,  or  iiiferentia, 
between  premisses  and  conclusions;  or  for  the  con- 
clusion itself.  And  sometimes  it  will  be  difficult,  in  a 
particular  sentence,  to  say  which  it  bears  of  these 
three  senses.  And  so  again  in  Algebra,  a  is  never  x, 
or  any  thing  but  a,  wherever  it  is  found  ;  and  a  and  b 
are  always  standard  quantities,  to  which  x  and  y  are 
always  to  be  referred,  and  by  which  they  are  always  to 
be  measured.  In  Geometry  again,  the  subjects  of 
argument,  pomts,  lines,  and  surfaces,  are  precise  crea- 
tions of  the  mind,  suggested  indeed  by  external  ob- 
jects, but  meaning  nothing  but  what  they  are  defined 
to  mean :  they  have  no  color,  no  motion,  no  heat,  no 
qualities  which  address  themselves  to  the  ear  or  to 


Formal  Inference.  255 

the  palate ;  so  that,  in  whatever  combinations  or  rela- 
tions the  words  denoting  them  occur,  and  to  whom- 
soever they  come,  those  words  never  vary  in  their 
meaning-,  but  are  just  of  the  same  measure  and 
Aveiofht  at  one  time  and  at  another. 

What  is  true  of  Arithmetic,  Algebra,  and  Geome- 
try, is  true  also  of  Aristotelic  argumentation  in  its 
typical  modes  and  figures.  It  compares  two  given 
w^ords  separately  with  a  third,  and  then  determines 
their  connexion  with  each  other,  in  a  bond  fide  iden- 
tity of  sense.  In  consequence,  its  formal  process  is 
best  conducted  by  means  of  symbols,  A,  B,  and  C. 
While  it  keeps  to  these,  it  is  safe ;  it  has  the  cogency 
of  mathematical  reasoning,  and  draws  its  conclusions 
by  a  rule  as  unerring  as  it  is  blind. 

Symbolical  notation,  then,  being  the  perfection  of 
the  syllogistic  method,  it  follows  that,  when  words 
are  substituted  for  symbols,  it  will  be  its  aim  to  cir- 
cumscribe and  stint  their  import  as  much  as  possible, 
lest  perchance  A  should  not  always  exactly  mean  A, 
and  B  mean  B ;  and  to  make  them,  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, the  calculi  of  notions,  which  are  in  our  absolute 
power,  as  meaning  just  what  we  choose  them  to  mean, 
and  as  little  as  possible  the  tokens  of  real  things,  which 
are  outside  of  us,  and  which  mean  we  do  not  know 
how  much,  but  so  much  certainly  as  may  run  away 
with  us,  in  proportion  as  we  enter  into  them,  beyond 
the  range  of  scientific  management.  The  concrete 
matter  of  propositions  is  a  constant  source  of  trouble 
to  syllogistic  reasoning,  as  marring  the  simplicity  and 
perfection  of  its  process.  Words,  which  denote  things, 
have  innumerable  implications,  but  in  inferential  exer- 
cises it  is  the  very  triumph  of  that  clearness  and  hard- 


256  Inference. 

ness  of  head,  which  is  the  characteristic  talent  in  the 
art,  to  have  stripped  them  of  all  these  connatural 
senses,  to  have  drained  them  of  that  depth  and  breadth 
of  associations  which  constitute  their  poetry,  their 
rhetoric,  and  their  historical  life,  to  have  starved 
each  term  down  till  it  has  become  the  ghost  of  itself, 
and  every  where  one  and  the  same  ghost,  '^  om- 
nibus umbra  locis,"  so  that  it  may  stand  for  just 
one  unreal  aspect  of  the  concrete  thing  to  which 
it  properly  belongs,  for  a  relation,  a  generaliza- 
tion, or  other  abstraction,  for  a  notion  neatly  turned 
out  of  the  laboratory  of  the  mind,  and  sufficiently 
tame  and  subdued  because  existing  only  in  a  defini- 
tion. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  logician  for  his  own  purposes, 
and  most  usefully  as  far  as  those  purposes  are  con- 
cerned, turns  rivers,  full,  winding,  and  beautiful,  into 
navigable  canals.  To  him  dog  or  horse  is  not  a  thing 
which  he  sees,  but  a  mere  word  suggesting  ideas; 
and  by  dog  or  horse  universal  he  means,  not  the 
aggregate  of  all  individual  dogs  or  horses  brought 
together,  but  a  common  aspect,  meagre  but  precise, 
of  all  existing  or  possible  dogs  or  horses,  which  at 
the  same  time  does  not  really  correspond  to  any  one 
dog  or  horse  out  of  the  whole  aggregate.  Such 
minute  fidelity  in  the  representation  of  individuals  is 
neither  necessar}^  nor  possible  to  his  art ;  his  business 
is  not  to  ascertain  facts  in  the  concrete,  but  to  find 
and  to  dress  up  middle  terms;  and,  provided  they 
and  the  extremes  which  they  go  between  are  not 
equivocal,  either  in  themselves  or  in  their  use,  sup- 
posing he  can  enable  his  pupils  to  show  well  in  a  vivd 
voce  disputation,  or  in  a  popular  harangue,  or  in  a 


Formal  Inference,  257 

written  dissertation,  he  has  achieved  the  main  pur- 
pose of  his  profession. 

Such  are  the  characteristics  of  reasoning,  viewed 
as  a  science  or  scientific  art,  or  inferential  process, 
and  we  might  anticipate  that,  narrow  as  by  necessity 
is  its  field  of  view,  for  that  reason  its  pretensions  to 
to  be  demonstrative  were  incontrovertible.  In  a  cer- 
tain sense  they  really  are  so ;  while  we  talk  logic,  we 
are  unanswerable ;  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  this 
universal  living  scene  of  things  is  after  all  as  little  a 
logical  world  as  it  is  a  poetical;  and  as  it  cannot 
without  violence  be  exalted  into  poetical  perfec- 
tion, neither  can  it  be  attenuated  into  a  logical  formu- 
la. Abstract  can  only  conduct  to  abstract;  but  we 
have  need  to  attain  by  our  reasonings  to  what  is  con- 
crete; and  the  margin  between  the  abstract  conclu- 
sions of  the  science,  and  the  concrete  facts  which  we 
Avish  to  ascertain,  will  be  found  to  reduce  the  force  of 
the  inferential  method  from  demonstration  to  the 
mere  determination  of  the  probable.  Thus,  since  (as 
I  have  already  said)  inference  starts  with  conditions, 
as  starting  with  premisses,  here  are  two  reasons  why, 
w^ien  employed  upon  matters  of  fact,  it  can  only 
conclude  probabilities:  first,  because  its  premisses 
are  assumed,  not  proved ;  and  secondly,  because  its 
conclusions  are  abstract,  and  not  concrete.  I  will 
now  consider  these  two  points  separately. 


Inference  comes  short  of  proof  in  concrete  matters, 
because  it  has  not  a  full  command  over  the  objects  to 
which  it  relates,  but  merely  assumes  its  premisses. 
In  order  to  complete  the  proof,  we  are  thrown  upon 


258  Infere7ice, 

some  previous  syllogism  or  syllogisms,  in  which  the 
assumptions  may  be  proved ;  and  then,  still  farther 
back,  we  are  thrown  upon  others  again,  to  prove  the 
new  assumptions  of  that  second  order  of  syllogisms. 
Where  is  this  process  to  stop?  especially  since  it 
must  run  upon  separated,  divergent,  and  multiplied 
lines  of  argument,  the  farther  the  investigation  is  car- 
ried back.  At  length  a  score  of  propositions  present 
themselves,  all  to  be  proved  by  propositions  more 
evident  than  themselves,  in  order  to  enable  them  re- 
spectively to  become  premisses  to  that  series  of  infer- 
ences which  terminates  in  the  conclusion  which  we 
originally  drew.  But  even  now  the  difficulty  is  not 
at  an  end ;  it  would  be  something  to  arrive  at  length 
at  premisses  which  are  undeniable,  however  long  we 
might  be  in  arriving  at  them ;  but  in  this  case  the 
long  retrospection  lodges  us  at  length  at  what  are 
called  first  principles,  the  recondite  sources  of  all 
knowledge,  as  to  which  logic  provides  no  common 
measure  of  minds, — which  are  accepted  by  some,  re- 
jected by  others, — in  which,  and  not  in  the  syllogistic 
exhibitions,  lies  the  whole  problem  of  attaining  to 
truth, — and  which  are  called  self-evident  by  their  re- 
spective advocates  because  they  are  evident  in  no 
other  way.  One  of  the  two  uses  contemplated  in 
reasoning  by  rule,  or  in  verbal  argumentation,  was, 
as  I  have  said,  to  establish  a  standard  of  truth  and  to 
supersede  the  ipse  dixit  of  authority  :  how  does  it  ful- 
fil this  end,  if  it  only  leads  us  back  to  first  principles, 
about  which  there  is  interminable  controversy?  We 
are  not  able  to  prove  b}^  syllogism  that  there  are  any 
self-evident  propositions  at  all;  but  supposing  there 
are  (as  of  course  I  hold  there  are),  still  who  can  de- 


Formal  Infere7ice,  259 

termine  them  by  logic?  Syllogism,  then,  though  of 
course  it  has  its  use,  still  does  the  minutest  and  easi- 
est part  of  the  work,  in  the  investigation  of  truth,  for 
when  there  is  any  difficulty,  that  difficulty  commonly 
lies  in  determining  first  principles,  not  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  proofs. 

Even  when  argument  is  the  most  direct  and  se- 
vere of  its  kind,  there  must  be  those  assumptions  in 
the  process  which  resolve  themselves  into  the  condi- 
tions of  human  nature  ;  but  how  many  more  assump- 
tions does  that  process  in  fact  involve,  subtle  assump- 
tions not  directly  arising  out  of  these  primary  condi- 
tions, but  accompanying  the  course  of  reasoning, 
step  by  step,  and  traceable  to  the  sentiments  of  the 
age,  country,  religion,  social  habits  and  ideas,  of  the 
particular  inquirers  or  disputants,  and  passing  current 
without  detection,  because  admitted  equally  on  all 
hands  !  And  to  these  must  be  added  the  assumptions 
which  are  made  from  the  necessity  of  the  case,  in 
consequence  of  the  prolixity  and  elaborateness  of  any 
argument  which  should  faithfully  note  down  all  the 
propositions  which  go  to  make  it  up.  We  recognize 
this  tediousness  even  in  the  case  of  the  theorems  of 
Euclid,  though  mathematical  proof  is  comparatively 
simple. 

Logic  then  does  not  really  prove ;  it  enables  us  to 
join  issue  with  others ;  it  suggests  ideas ;  it  opens 
views ;  it  maps  out  for  us  the  lines  of  thought ;  it 
verifies  negatively  ;  it  determines  when  differences  of 
opinion  are  hopeless  ;  and  when  and  how  far  conclu- 
sions are  probable  ;  but  for  genuine  proof  in  concrete 
matter  we  require  an  organon  more  delicate,  versatile, 
and  elastic  than  verbal  argumentation. 


26o  Inference. 

I  ought  to  give  an  illustration  of  what  I  have  been 
stating  in  general  terms ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  do  so 
without  a  digression.  However,  if  it  must  be,  I  look 
round  the  room  in  which  I  happen  to  be  writing,  and 
take  dow^n  the  first  book  which  catches  my  eye.  It 
is  an  old  volume  of  a  Magazine  of  great  name  ;  I 
open  it  at  random  and  fall  upon  a  discussion  about  the 
then  lately  discovered  emendations  of  the  text  of 
Shakespeare.     It  will  do  for  my  purpose. 

In  the  account  of  Falstafif's  death  in  ''  Henry  V." 
(act  ii.  scene  3)  we  read,  according  to  the  received 
text,  the  well-known  words,  *'  His  nose  was  as  sharp 
as  a  pen,  and  a  babbled  of  green  fields."  In  the  first 
authentic  edition,  published  in  1623,  some  3'ears  after 
his  death,  the  words,  I  believe,  ran,  ''  and  a  table  of 
green  fields,"  which  has  no  sense.  Accordingl}^,  an 
anonymous  critic,  reported  by  Theobald  in  the  last 
century,  corrected  them  to  ''  and  'a  talked  of  green 
fields."  Theobald  himself  improved  the  reading  into 
''and  'a  babbled  of  green  fields,"  which  since  his  time 
has  been  the  received  text.  But  just  twenty  years 
ago  an  annotated  copy  of  the  edition  of  1632  was 
found,  annotated  perhaps  by  a  contemporary,  Avhich, 
among  as  many  as  20,000  corrections  of  the  text,  sub- 
stituted for  the  corrupt  reading  of  1623,  the  words 
''on  a  table  of  green  frieze,"  which  has  a  sufficient 
sense,  though  far  less  acceptable  to  an  admirer  of 
Shakespeare,  than  Theobald's.  The  genuineness  of 
this  copy  with  its  annotations,  as  it  is  presented  to  us, 
I  shall  here  take  for  granted. 

Now  I  understand,  or  at  least  will  suppose,  the 
argument,  maintained  in  the  article  of  the  Magazine 
in  question,  to  run  thus  : — "  Theobald's  reading,  as  at 


Formal  Inference.  261 

present  received,  is  to  be  retained,  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  text  of  1623  and  of  the  emendation  made  on  the 
copy  of  the  edition  of  1632  ; — to  the  exclusion  of  the 
text  of  1623  because  that  text  is  corrupt;  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  the  annotation  of  1632  because  it  is  anony- 
mous." I  wish  it  then  observed  how  many  large 
questions  are  opened  in  the  discussion  which  ensues, 
how  many  recondite  and  untractable  principles  have 
to  be  settled,  and  how  impotent  is  logic,  or  any  rea- 
sonings which  can  be  thrown  into  language,  to  deal 
with  these  indispensable  first  principles. 

The  first  position  is,  "  The  authoritative  reading  of 
1623  is  not  to  be  allowed  in  the  received  text,  because 
it  is  corrupt."  Now  are  we  to  take  it  for  granted,  as 
a  first  principle,  which  needs  no  proof,  that  a  text 
may  be  tampered  Vvdth,  because  it  is  corrupt?  How- 
ever the  corrupt  reading  arose,  it  is  authoritative.  It 
is  found  in  an  edition,  published  by  known  persons, 
only  six  years  after  Shakespeare's  death,  from  his 
own  manuscript,  as  it  appears,  and  with  his  correc- 
tions of  earlier  faulty  impressions.  Authority  cannot 
sanction  nonsense,  but  it  can  forbid  critics  from  ex- 
perimentalizing upon  it.  If  the  text  of  Shakespeare 
is  corrupt,  it  should  be  published  as  corrupt. 

I  beheve  the  best  editors  of  the  Greek  tragedians 
have  given  up  the  impertinence  of  introducing  their 
conjectures  into  the  text;  and  a  classic  like  Shake- 
speare has  a  right  to  be  treated  with  the  same  respect 
as  ^schylus.  To  this  it  will  be  repHed,  that  Shake- 
speare is  for  the  general  public  and  ^schylus  for 
students  of  a  dead  language ;  that  the  run  of  men  read 
for  amusement  or  as  a  recreation,  and  that,  if  the 
editions  of  Shakespeare  were  made  on  critical  prin- 


262  Inference. 

ciples,  they  would  remain  unsold.  Here,  then,  we 
are  brought  to  the  question  Vv^hether  it  is  any  advan- 
tage to  read  Shakespeare  except  with  the  care  and 
pains  which  a  classic  demands,  and  whether  he  is  in 
fact  read  at  all  by  those  whom  such  critical  exactness 
would  offend  ;  and  thus  we  are  led  on  to  further  ques- 
tions about  cultivation  of  mind  and  the  education  of 
the  masses.  Further,  the  question  presents  itself, 
whether  the  general  admiration  of  Shakespeare  is 
genuine,  whether  it  is  not  a  mere  fashion,  whether 
the  multitude  of  men  understand  him  at  all,  whether 
it  is  not  true  that  every  one  makes  much  of  him,  be- 
cause every  one  else  makes  much  of  him.  Can  we 
possibly  make  Shakespeare  light  reading,  especially 
in  this  day  of  cheap  novels,  by  ever  so  much  correc- 
tion of  his  text  ? 

Now  supposing  this  point  settled,  and  the  text  of 
1623  put  out  of  court,  then  comes  the  claim  of  the 
Annotator  to  introduce  into  Shakespeare's  text  the 
emendation  made  upon  his  copy  of  the  edition  of  1632  ; 
why  is  he  not  of  greater  authority  than  Theobald,  the 
inventor  of  the  received  reading,  and  his  emendation 
of  more  authority  than  Theobald's  ?  If  the  corrupt 
reading  must  anyhow  be  got  out  of  the  way,  why 
should  not  the  Annotator,  rather  than  Theobald,  de- 
termine its  substitute  ?  For  what  we  know,  the  au- 
thority of  the  anonymous  Annotator  may  be  very 
great.  There  is  nothing  to  show  that  he  was  not  a 
contemporary  of  the  poet ;  and  if  so,  the  question 
arises,  what  is  the  character  of  his  emendations  ?  arc 
they  his  own  private  and  arbitrary  conjectures,  or 
are  they  informations  from  those  who  knew  Shake- 
speare, traditions  of  the  theatre,  of  the  actors  or  specta- 


Formal  Inference,  26 


o 


tors  of  his  plays  ?  Here,  then,  we  are  involved  in  intri- 
cate questions  vv  hich  can  only  be  decided  by  a  minute 
examination  of  the  20,000  emendations  so  industriously 
brought  together  by  this  anonymous  critic.  But  it  is 
obvious  that  a  verbal  argumentation  upon  20,000  cor- 
rections is  impossible:  there  must  be  first  careful 
processes  of  perusal,  classification,  discrimination, 
selection,  which  mainly  are  acts  of  the  mind  without 
the  intervention  of  language.  There  must  be  a  cu- 
mulation of  arguments  on  one  side  and  on  the  other, 
of  which  only  the  heads  or  the  results  can  be  put 
upon  paper.  Next  come  in  questions  of  criticism 
and  taste,  with  their  recondite  and  disputable  premiss- 
es, and  the  usual  deductions  from  them,  so  subtle 
and  difficult  to  follow.  All  this  being  considered,  am 
I  wrong  in  saying  that,  though  controversy  is  both 
possible  and  useful  at  all  times,  yet  it  is  not  adequate 
to  this  occasion ;  rather  that  that  sum-total  of  argu- 
ment (whether  for  or  against  the  Annotator)  which  is 
furnished  by  his  numerous  emendations, — or  what 
may  be  called  the  multiform,  evidential  fact,  in  which 
the  examination  of  these  emendations  results, — re- 
quires rather  to  be  photographed  on  the  individual 
mind  as  by  one  impression,  than  admits  of  delineation 
for  the  satisfaction  of  the  many  in  any  known  or  pos- 
sible language,  however  rich  in  vocabulary  and  flexi- 
ble in  structure? 

And  now  as  to  the  third  point  which  presents  itself 
for  consideration,  the  claim  of  Theobald's  emendation 
to  retain  its  place  in  the  tcxtiis  rcccptus.  It  strikes 
me  with  wonder  that  an  argument  in  its  defence 
could  have  been  put  forward  to  the  following  efifect, 
viz.  that  true  though  it  be,  that  the  Editors  of  1623 


264  hiference. 

are  of  much  more  authority  than  Theobald,  and  that 
the  Annotator  s  reading  in  the  passage  in  question  is 
more  hkely  to  be  correct  than  Theobald's,  neverthe- 
less Theobald  has  by  this  time  acquired  a  prescrip- 
tive right  to  its  place  there,  the  prescription  of  more 
than  a  hundred  years  ; — that  usurpation  has  become 
legitimacy  ;  that  Theobald's  words  have  sunk  into 
the  hearts  of  thousands ;  that  in  fact  they  have 
become  Shakespeare's ;  that  it  Avould  be  a  dangerous 
innovation  and  an  evil  precedent  to  touch  them.  If 
we  begin  an  unsettlement  of  the  popular  mind,  where 
is  it  to  stop  ? 

Thus  it  appears,  in  order  to  do  justice  to  the  ques- 
tion before  us,  we  have  to  betake  ourselves  to  the 
consideration  of  myths,  pious  frauds,  and  other  grave 
matters,  which  introduce  us  into  a  sylva,  dense  and 
intricate,  of  first  principles  and  elementary  phenomena, 
belonging  to  the  domains  of  archaeology  and  theo- 
logy. Nor  is  this  all ;  when  such  views  of  the  duty  of 
garbUng  a  classic  are  propounded,  they  open  upon  us 
a  long  vista  of  sceptical  interrogations  which  go  far 
to  disparage  the  claims  upon  us,  the  genius,  the  very 
existence  of  the  great  poet  to  whose  honor  these 
views  are  intended  to  minister.  For  perhaps,  after 
all,  Shakespeare  is  really  but  a  collection  of  many 
Theobalds,  who  have  each  of  them  a  right  to  his  own 
share  of  him.  There  was  a  great  dramatic  school  in 
his  day  ;  he  was  one  of  a  number  of  first-rate  artists, 
— perhaps  they  wrote  in  common.  How  are  we  to 
know  what  is  his,  or  how  much  ?  Are  the  best  parts 
his,  or  the  worst  ?  It  is  said  that  the  players  put  in 
what  is  vulgar  and  oft'ensive  in  his  writings  ;  perhaps 
they  inserted  the  beauties.      I  have  heard  it  urged 


Formal  Inference,  265 

years  ago,  as  an  objection  to    Sheridan's  claim    of 
authorship  to  the  plays  which  bear  his  name,  that 
they  were  so  unlike  each  other ;  is  not  this  the  very 
peculiarity  of  those  imputed  to  Shakespeare  ?     Were 
ever  the  writings  of  one  man  so  various,  so  imper- 
sonal ?     Can  we  form  one  true  idea  of  what  he  was  in 
history  or  character,  by  means  of  them  ?  is  he  not  in 
short  "  vox  ct  prcBterca  nihiV?     Then  again,  in  corro- 
boration, is   there  any  author's  life   so   deficient   in 
biographical  notices  as  his  ?  We  know  about  Hooker, 
Spenser,   Spelman,  Walton,    Harvey:    what   do  we 
know  of  Shakespeare  ?     Is   he  much   more   than   a 
name  ?     Is  not  the  traditional  object  of  an  English- 
man's idolatry  after  all  a  nebula  of  genius,  destined, 
like  Homer,  to  be  resolved  into  its  separate  and  inde- 
pendent luminaries,  as  soon  as  we  have  a  criticism 
powerful    enough    for   the    purpose  ?       I    must    not 
be    supposed    for   a   moment    to    countenance   such 
scepticism    myself, — though   it   is   a  subject  worthy 
the  attention  of  a  sceptical  age  :    here  I  have  intro- 
duced it  simply  to  suggest  how  many  words  go  to 
make  up  a  thoroughly  valid  argument ;    how  short 
and  easy  a  way  to  a  true  conclusion  is  the  logic  of 
good  sense ;  how  little  syllogisms  have  to  do  with  the 
formation  of   opinion  ;  how  little  depends  upon  the 
inferential  proofs  ;  how  much  upon  those  pre-existing 
beliefs  and  views,  in  which  men  either  agree  with 
each  other  or  hopelessly  differ,  before  they  begin  to 
dispute,  and  which  are  hidden  deep  in  our  nature,  or, 
it  may  be,  in  our  personal  peculiarities. 

2. 
So  much  on  the  multiplicity  of  assumptions,  which 


266  Inference. 

in  spite  of  formal  exactness,  logical  reasoning  in  con- 
crete matters  is  forced  to  admit,  and  on  the  conse- 
quent uncertainty  which  attends  its  conclusions. 
Now  I  come  to  the  second  reason  why  its  conclu- 
sions are  thus  wanting  in  precision. 

In  this  world  of  sense  we  have  to  do  with  things, 
far  more  than  with  notions.  We  are  not  solitary,  left 
to  the  contemplation  of  our  own  thoughts  and  their 
legitimate  developments.  We  are  surrounded  by 
external  beings,  and  our  enunciations  are  directed  to 
the  concrete.  We  reason  in  order  to  enlarge  our 
knowledge  of  matters,  which  do  not  depend  on  us 
for  being  what  they  are.  But  how  is  an  exercise  of 
mind,  which  is  for  the  most  part  occupied  with 
notions,  not  things,  competent  to  deal  with  things, 
except  partially  and  indirectly?  This  is  the  main 
reason  why  an  inference,  however  fully  worded 
(except  perhaps  in  some  peculiar  cases,  which  are 
out  of  place  here),  never  can  reach  so  far  as  to  as- 
certain a  fact.  As  I  have  already  said,  arguments 
about  the  abstract  cannot  handle  and  determine  the 
concrete.  They  may  approximate  to  a  proof,  but 
they  only  reach  the  probable,  because  they  cannot 
reach  the  particular. 

Even  in  mathematical  physics  a  margin  is  left  for 
possible  imperfection  in  the  investigation.  When  the 
planet  Neptune  was  discovered,  it  was  deservedly 
considered  a  triumph  of  science,  that  abstract  reason- 
ings had  done  so  much  towards  determining  the 
planet  and  its  orbit.  There  would  have  been  no 
triumph  in  success,  had  there  been  no  hazard  of 
failure;  it  is  no  triumph  to  Euclid,  in  pure  mathe- 
matics,   that    the     geometrical    conclusions    of    his 


Formal  Infere^ice,  267 

second  book  can  be  worked  out  and  verified  by 
algebra. 

The  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  almost 
mathematical  in  their  precision ;  but  there  is  a  multi- 
tude of  matters,  to  which  mathematical  science  is 
applied,  which  are  in  their  nature  intricate  and  ob- 
scure, and  require  that  reasoning  by  rule  should  be 
completed  by  the  living  mind.  Who  would  be  satis- 
fied with  a  navigator  or  engineer,  who  had  no  prac- 
tice or  experience  to  carry  on  his  scientific  conclusions 
out  of  their  native  abstract  into  the  concrete  and  the 
real?  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  distrust,  which  is 
ordinarily  felt,  of  speculators  and  theorists  but  this, 
that  they  are  dead  to  the  necessity  of  personal  pru- 
dence and  judgment  to  qualify  and  complete  their 
logic?  Science,  working  by  itself,  reaches  truth  in 
the  abstract,  and  probability  in  the  concrete ;  but 
what  we  aim  at  is  truth  in  the  concrete. 

This  is  true  of  other  inferences  besides  mathemati- 
cal. They  come  to  no  definite  conclusions  about 
matters  of  fact,  except  as  they  are  made  effectual  for 
their  purpose  by  the  living  intelligence  which  uses 
them.  ''  All  men  have  their  price ;  Fabricius  is  a 
man;  he  has  his  price;"  but  he  had  not  his  price; 
how  is  this?  Because  he  is  more  than  a  universal ; 
because  he  falls  under  other  universals  ;  because  uni- 
versal are  ever  at  war  with  each  other;  because 
v/hat  is  called  a  universal  is  only  a  general ;  because 
what  is  only  general  does  not  lead  to  a  necessary 
conclusion.  Let  us  judge  him  by  another  universal. 
''  jNIen  have  a  conscience  ;  Fabricius  is  a  man  ;  he  has 
a  conscience."  Until  we  have  actual  experience  of 
Fabricius,  we  can  only  say,  that,  since  he  is  a  man, 


268  hiference. 

perhaps  he  will  take  a  bribe,  and  perhaps  he  will  not. 
*'  Latet  dolus  in  generahbus  ;"  they  are  arbitrary  and 
fallacious,  if  we  take  them  for  more  than  broad  views 
and  aspects  of  things,  serving  as  our  notes  and  indi- 
cations for  judging  of  the  particular,  but  not  abso- 
lutely touching  and  determining  facts. 

Let  units  come  first,  and  (so-called)  universals  sec- 
ond ;  let  universals  minister  to  units,  not  units  be 
sacrificed  to  universals.  John,  Richard,  and  Robert 
are  individual  things,  independent,  incommunicable. 
We  may  find  some  kind  of  common  measure  between 
them,  and  we  may  give  it  the  name  of  man,  man  as 
such,  the  typical  man,  the  aiito-anthropos.  We  are 
justified  in  so  doing,  and  in  investing  it  with  gen- 
eral attributes,  and  bestowing  on  it  what  we  consider 
a  definition.  But  we  go  on  to  impose  our  definition 
on  the  whole  race,  and  to  every  member  of  it,  to  the 
thousand  Johns,  Richards,  and  Roberts  who  are 
found  in  it.  Each  of  them  is  what  he  is,  in  spite 
of  it.  Not  any  one  of  them  is  man,  as  such,  or  coin- 
cides with  the  aiUo-anthropos.  Another  John  is  not 
necessarily  rational,  because  "  all  men  are  rational," 
for  he  may  be  an  idiot ; — nor  because  "  man  is  a  being 
of  progress,"  does  the  second  Richard  progress,  for 
he  may  be  a  dunce ; — nor,  because  ''  man  is  made  for 
society,"  must  v/e  go  on  to  deny  that  the  second 
Robert  is  a  gipsy  or  a  bandit,  as  he  is  found  to  be. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  stereotyped  humanity  ;  it 
must  ever  be  a  vague,  bodiless  idea,  because  the  con- 
crete units  from  which  it  is  formed  are  independent 
reahties.  General  laws  are  not  inviolable  truths; 
much  less  are  they  necessary  causes.  Since,  as  a 
rule,  men  are  rational,  progressive,  and  social,  there 


Formal  Inference,  269 

is  a  high  probability  of  this  rule  being  true  in  the 
case  of  a  particular  person  ;  but  we  must  know  him 
to  be  sure  of  it. 

Each  thing  has  its  own  nature  and  its  own  historj^ 
When  the  nature  and  the  history  of  many  things  are 
similar,  w^e  sa}-  that  they  have  the  same  nature ;  but 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  one  and  the  same  nature ; 
they  are  each  of  them  itself,  not  identical,  but  like.  A 
law  is  not  a  fact,  but  a  notion.  ''  All  men  die  ;  therefore 
Elias  has  died;"  but  he  has  not  died,  and  did  not  die. 
He  was  an  exception  to  the  general  law  of  humanity  ; 
so  far,  he  did  not  come  under  that  law,  but  under  the 
law  (so  to  say)  of  Elias.  It  was  the  law  of  his  indi- 
viduality, that  he  left  the  world  without  dying ;  Avhat 
right  have  we  to  subject  the  person  of  Elias  to  the 
scientific  notion  of  an  abstract  humanity,  which  we 
have  formed,  without  asking  his  leave?  Why  must 
the  tyrant  majority  find  a  rule  for  his  history?  "  All 
men  are  mortal ;"  no ;  what  is  really  meant  is,  that 
man,  as  such,  is  mortal,  or  the  abstract,  typical  auto- 
ant  Jiropos ;  therefore  the  minor  premiss  ought  to  be, 
''  Elias  was  the  aiito-antJiropos  or  abstract  man;"  but 
he  was  not,  and  could  not  be  the  abstract  man,  nor 
could  any  one  else,  any  more  than  the  average  man 
of  an  Insurance  Company  is  every  individual  man 
who  insures  his  life  with  it.  Such  a  syllogism  proves 
nothing  about  the  veritable  Elias,  except  in  the  way 
of  antecedent  probability.  If  it  be  said  that  Elias  was 
exempted  from  death,  not  by  nature,  but  by  miracle, 
what  is  this  to  the  purpose,  undeniable  as  it  is  ?  Still, 
to  have  this  miraculous  exemption  was  the  personal 
prerogative  of  Elias.  We  call  it  miracle,  because 
God  ordinarily  acts  otherwise.     He  who  causes  men 


2  /O  Inference, 

in  general  to  die,  gave  to  Elias  not  to  die.  This 
miraculous  gift  comes  into  the  individuality  of  Elias. 
On  this  individuality  we  must  fix  our  thoughts,  and 
not  begin  our  notion  of  him  by  ignoring  it.  He  was  a 
man,  and  something  more  than  a  man  ;  and  if  we  do 
not  take  this  into  account,  we  fall  into  an  initial  error 
in  our  thoughts  of  him. 

What  is  true  of  Elias  is  true  of  every  one  in  his 
own  place  and  degree.  We  call  rationality  the  dis- 
tinction of  man,  when  compared  with  other  animals. 
This  is  true  in  logic ;  but  in  fact  a  man  differs  from  a 
brute,  not  in  rationality  only,  but  in  all  that  he  is, 
even  in  those  respects  in  which  he  is  most  like  a 
brute  ;  so  that  his  whole  self,  his  bones,  limbs,  make, 
life,  reason,  moral  feeling,  immortality,  and  all  that  he 
is  besides,  is  his  real  differentia,  in  contrast  to  a  horse 
or  a  dog.  And  in  like  manner  as  regards  John  and 
Richard,  when  compared  Avith  one  another;  each  is 
himself,  and  nothing  else,  and  though,  regarded  ab- 
stractedly, the  two  may  fairl}^  be  said  to  have  some- 
thing in  common,  viz.  that  abstract  sameness  which 
does  not  exist  at  all,  yet,  strictly  speaking,  they  have 
nothing  in  common,  for  they  have  a  vested  interest 
in  all  that  they  respectively  are ;  and,  moreover, 
what  seems  to  be  common  in  the  two,  becomes  in 
fact  so  uncommion,  so  sid  simile,  in  their  respective 
individualities — the  bodily  frame  of  each  is  so  singled 
out  from  all  other  bodies  by  its  special  constitution, 
sound  or  weak,  by  its  vitality,  activity,  pathological 
history  and  changes,  and,  again,  the  mind  of  each 
is  so  distinct  from  all  other  minds,  in  disposition, 
powers,  and  habits, — that,  instead  of  saying,  as  logi- 
cians say,  that  the  two  men  differ  only  in  number,  we 


Formal  Inference.  271 

ought,  I  repeat,  rather  to  say  that  they  differ  from 
each  other  in  all  that  they  are,  in  identity,  in  incom- 
municability,  in  personality. 

Nor  does  any  real  thing-  admit,  by  any  calculus  of 
logic,  of  being  dissected  into  all  the  possible  general 
notions  which  it  admits,  nor,  in  consequence,  of  being 
recomposed  out  of  them  ;  though  the  attempt  to  do 
so  is  more  unpromising  in  proportion  to  the  intricacy 
and  completeness  of  its  make.  We  cannot  see  through 
any  one  of  the  myriad  beings  which  make  up  the 
universe,  or  give  the  full  catalogue  of  its  belongings. 
We  are  accustomed,  indeed,  and  rightly,  to  speak  of 
the  Creator  Himself  as  incomprehensible ;  and,  in- 
deed, he  is  so  by  an  incommunicable  attribute;  but 
in  a  certain  sense  each  of  His  creatures  is  incompre- 
hensible to  us  also,  in  the  sense  that  no  one  has  a 
perfect  understanding  of  it  but  He.  We  recognize 
and  appropriate  aspects  of  them,  and  logic  is  useful 
to  us  in  registering  these  aspects  and  what  they 
imply ;  but  it  does  not  give  us  to  know  even  one  in- 
dividual being. 

So  much  on  logical  argumentation ;  and  in  speak- 
ing of  the  syllogism,  I  have  spoken  of  all  inferential 
processes  whatever,  as  expressed  in  language  (if 
they  are  such  as  to  be  reducible  to  science),  for  they 
all  require  general  notions,  as  conditions  of  their 
coming  to  a  conclusion. 

Thus,  in  the  deductive  argument,  ''  Europe  has  no 
security  for  peace,  till  its  large  standing  armies  in  its 
separate  states  are  reduced ;  for  a  large  standing 
army  is  in  its  very  idea  provocative  of  war,"  the  con- 
clusion is  only  probable,  for  it  may  so  be  that  in  no 
country  is  the  pure  idea  fulfilled,  but  in  every  country 


2^2  Inference. 

in  concrete  fact  there  may  be  circumstances,  poli- 
tical or  social,  which  destroy  the  abstract  danger- 
ousness. 

So,  too,  as  regards  Induction  and  Analogy,  as 
modes  of  Inference ;  for,  whether  I  argue,  "  This 
place  will  have  the  cholera,  unless  it  is  drained ;  for 
there  are  a  number  of  well-ascertained  cases  which 
point  to  this  conclusion;"  or,  ''The  sun  will  rise 
to-morrow,  for  it  rose  to-day ;"  in  either  method  of 
reasoning  I  appeal,  in  order  to  prove  a  particular 
case,  to  a  general  principle  or  law,  Vvdiich  has  not 
force  enough  to  warrant  more  than  a  probable  conclu- 
sion. As  to  the  cholera,  the  place  in  question  may 
have  certain  antagonist  advantages,  Vv^hich  anticipate 
or  neutralize  the  miasma  which  is  the  recipient  of 
the  poison  ;  and  as  to  the  sun's  rising  to-morrow,  there 
w^as  a  first  day  of  the  sun's  rising,  and  therefore  there 
may  be  a  last. 

This  is  what  I  have  to  say  on  formal  Inference, 
when  taken  to  represent  Ratiocination.  Science  in 
all  its  departments  has  too  much  simplicity  and 
exactness,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  to  be  the 
measure  of  fact.  In  its  very  perfection  lies  its  incom- 
petency to  settle  particulars  and  details.  As  to 
Logic,  its  chain  of  conclusions  hangs  loose  at  both 
ends ;  both  tjie  point  from  which  the  proof  should 
start,  and  the  points  at  which  it  should  arrive,  are 
beyond  its  reach ;  it  comes  short  both  of  first 
principles  and  of  concrete  issues.  Even  its  most  ela- 
borate exhibitions  fail  to  represent  adequately  the 
sum-total  of  considerations  by  Vvdiich  an  individual 
mind  is  determined  in  its  judgment  of  things;  even 


Formal  Inference.  273 

its  most  careful  combinations  made  to  bear  on  a  con- 
clusion want  that  steadiness  of  aim  which  is  necessary 
for  hitting  it.  As  I  said  when  I  began,  thought  is  too 
keen  and  manifold,  its  sources  are  too  remote  and 
hidden,  its  path  too  personal,  delicate,  and  circuitous, 
its  subject-matter  too  various  and  intricate,  to  admit 
of  the  trammels  of  any  language,  of  whatever  subtlety 
and  of  whatever  compass. 

Nor  is  it  any  disparagement  of  the  proper  value  of 
formal  reasonings  thus  to  speak  of  them.  That  they 
cannot  proceed  beyond  probabilities  is  most  readily 
allowed  by  those  who  use  them  most.  Philosophers, 
experimentalists,  lawyers,  in  their  several  ways,  have 
commonly  the  reputation  of  being,  at  least  on  moral 
and  religious  subjects,  hard  of  belief;  because,  pro- 
ceeding in  the  necessary  investigation  by  the  ana- 
lytical method  of  verbal  inference,  they  find  within 
its  lim.its  no  sufficient  resources  for  attaining  a  con- 
clusion. Nay,  they  do  not  always  find  it  possible  in 
their  own  province  of  thought ;  for,  even  Avhen  in 
their  hearts  they  have  no  doubt  about  a  conclusion, 
still  often,  from  the  habit  of  their  minds,  they 
are  reluctant  to  own  it,  and  dv/ell  upon  the  deficien- 
cies of  the  evidence,  or  the  possibility  of  error,  because 
they  speak  by  rule  and  by  book,  though  they  judge 
and  determine  by  common-sense. 

Every  exercise  of  nature  or  of  art  is  good  in  its 
place ;  the  uses  of  this  logical  inference  are  manifold. 
Ratiocination  is  the  great  principle  of  order  in  think- 
ing ;  it  reduces  a  chaos  into  harmony ;  it  catalogues 
the  accumulations  of  knowledge;  it  maps  out  for  us 
the  relations  of  its  separate  departments ;  it  puts  us 
in  the  way  to  correct  its  OAvn  mistakes.     It  enables 


2  74  Inference. 

the  independent  intellects  of  man}^  acting,  and  re-act- 
ing on  each  other,  to  bring  their  collective  force  to 
bear  upon  one  and  the  same  subject-matter,  or  the 
same  question.  If  language  is  an  inestimable  gift  to 
man,  the  logical  faculty  prepares  it  for  our  use. 
Though  it  does  not  go  so  far  as  to  ascertain  truth, 
still  it  teaches  us  the  direction  in  which  truth  lies, 
and  how  propositions  lie  towards  each  other.  Nor 
is  it  a  slight  benefit  to  know  what  is  probable,  and 
what  is  not  so,  Avhat  is  needed  for  the  proof  of  a  point, 
what  is  wanting  in  a  theory,  how  a  theory  hangs  to- 
gether, and  what  will  follow,  if  it  be  admitted. 
Though  it  does  not  itself  discover  the  unknown,  it  is 
one  principal  way  by  which  discoveries  are  made. 
Moreover,  a  course  of  argument,  which  is  simply  con- 
ditional, will  point  out  when  and  where  experiment 
and  observation  should  be  applied,  or  testimony  sought 
for,  as  often  happens  both  in  physical  and  legal  ques- 
tions. A  logical  hypothesis  is  the  means  of  holding 
facts  together,  explaining  difficulties,  and  reconciling 
the  imagination  to  what  is  strange.  And,  again,  pro- 
cesses of  logic  are  useful  as  enabling  us  to  get  over 
particular  stages  of  an  investigation  speedily  and 
sureh^,  as  on  a  journey  we  now  and  then  gain  time 
by  travelling  by  night,  make  short  cuts  when  the 
high-road  winds,  or  adopt  water-carriage  to  avoid 
fatigue. 

But  reasoning  by  rule  and  in  words  is  too  natural 
to  us,  to  admit  of  being  regarded  merely  in  the  light 
of  utility.  Our  inquiries  spontaneously  fall  into  scien- 
tific sequence,  and  we  think  in  logic,  as  we  talk  in 
prose,  without  aiming  at  doing  so.  However  sure 
we  are  of  the  accuracy  of  our  instinctive  conclusions, 


Formal  Injerence.  275 

we  as  instinctively  put  them  into  words,  as  far  as  we 
can ;  as  preferring,  if  possible,  to  have  them  in  an  ob- 
jective shape  which  we  can  fall  back  upon, — first  for 
our  own  satisfaction,  then  for  our  justification  with 
others.  Such  a  tangible  defence  of  what  we  hold, 
incomplete  as  it  necessarily  is,  considered  as  an  ana- 
lysis of  our  ratiocination,  nevertheless  is  in  such  sense 
associated  with  our  holdings,  and  so  fortifies  and  illus- 
trates them,  that  it  acts  as  a  vivid  apprehension  acts, 
giving  them  luminousness  and  force.  Thus  inference 
becomes  a  sort  of  symbol  of  assent,  and  even  bears 
upon  action. 

I  have  enlarged  on  these  obvious  considerations, 
lest  I  should  seem  paradoxical ;  but  they  do  not  im- 
pair the  main  position  of  this  Section,  that  inference, 
considered  in  the  shape  of  verbal  argumentation,  de- 
termines neither  our  principles,  nor  our  ultimate 
judgments, — that  it  is  neither  the  test  of  truth,  nor 
the  adequate  basis  of  assent."^ 


*  I  have  assumed  throughout  this  Section  that  all  verbal  argumen- 
tation is  ultimately  syllogistic  ;  and  in  consequence  that  it  ever  re- 
quires universal  propositions  and  comes  short  of  concrete  fact.  A 
friend  refers  me  to  the  dispute  between  Des  Cartes  and  Gassendi,  the 
latter  maintaining  against  the  former  that  "  Cogito  ergo  sum  "  implies 
the  universal  "  All  who  think  exist."  I  should  deny  this  with  Des 
Cartes  ;  but  I  should  say  (as  indeed  he  said),  that  his  dictum  was  not 
an  argument,  but  was  the  expression  of  a  ratiocinative  instinct,  as  I 
explain  below  under  the  head  of  "  Natural  Logic." 

As  to  the  instance  "  Brutes  are  not  men  ;  therefore  men  are  not 
brutes,"  there  seems  to  me  no  consequence  here,  neither  a  prater  nor 
a  propter,  but  a  tautology.  And  as  to  "  It  was  Tom  or  Dick  that  did 
it ;  it  was  not  Dick,  ergo,"  this  may  be  referred  to  the  one  great  prin- 
ciple on  which  all  logical  reasoning  is  founded,  but  really  it  is  an  in- 
ference no  more  than  if  I  broke  a  biscuit,  flung  half  away,  and  then 
said  of  the  other  half,  "  This  is  what  remains."     It  does  but  state  a 


276  liife^xnce. 


§  2.  Informal   Inference. 

It  is  plain  that  formal  logical  sequence  is  not  in  fact 
the  method  by  which  we  are  enabled  to  become  cer- 
tain of  what  is  concrete  ;  and  it  is  equally  plain,  from 
what  has  been  already  suggested,  what  the  real  and 
necessary  method  is.  It  is  the  cumulation  of  proba- 
bilities, independent  of  each  other,  arising  out  of  the 
nature  and  circumstances  of  the  particular  case  which 
is  under  review ;  probabilities  too  fine  to  avail  sepa- 
rately, too  subtle  and  circuitous  to  be  convertible 
into  syllogisms,  too  numerous  and  various  for  such 
conversion,  even  were  they  convertible.  As  a  man's 
portrait  differs  from  a  sketch  of  him,  in  having,  not 
merely  a  continuous  outline,  but  all  its  details  filled 
in,  and  shades  and  colors  laid  on  and  harmonized 
together,  such  is  the  multiform  and  intricate  process 
of  ratiocination,  necessary  for  our  reaching  him  as  a 
concrete  fact,  compared  with  the  rude  operation  of 
syllogistic  treatment. 

fact.  So,  when  the  ist,  2d,  or  3d  proposition  of  Euclid  II.  is  put  be- 
fore the  eyes  in  a  diagram,  a  boy,  before  he  yet  has  learned  to  reason, 
sees  with  his  eyes  the  fact  of  the  thesis,  and  this  seeing  it  even  makes 
it  difficult  for  him  to  master  the  mathematical  proof.  Here,  then,  a 
fact  is  stated  in  the  form  of  an  argument. 

However,  I  have  inserted  parentheses  at  pp.  26C  and  271,  in  order 
to  say  "  transeat "  to  the  question. 


Infoiinal  Inference.  277 

Let  us  suppose  I  wish  to  convert  an  educated, 
thoughtful  Protestant,  and  accordingly  present  for 
his  acceptance  a  syllogism  of  the  following  kind:  — 
"  All  Protestants  are  bound  to  join  the  Church  ;  you 
are  a  Protestant:  ergo."  He  answers,  we  will  say, 
by  denying  both  premisses  ;  and  he  does  so  by  means 
of  arguments,  which  branch  out  into  other  argu- 
ments, and  those  into  others,  and  all  of  them  sever- 
ally requiring  to  be  considered  by  him  on  their  own 
merits,  before  the  syllogism  reaches  him,  and  in  con- 
sequence mounting  up,  taken  all  together,  into  an 
array  of  inferential  exercises  large  and  various  beyond 
calculation.  INIoreover,  he  is  bound  to  submit  him- 
self to  this  complicated  process  from  the  nature  of 
the  case  ;  he  would  act  rashly,  if  he  did  not ;  for  he 
is  a  concrete  individual  unit,  and  being  so,  is  under 
so  many  laws,  and  is  the  subject  of  so  many  predica- 
tions all  at  once,  that  he  cannot  determine,  off-hand, 
his  position  and  his  duty  by  the  law  and  the  predica- 
tion of  one  syllogism  in  particular.  I  mean  he  will 
fairly  say,  '^  Distinguo,"  to  each  of  its  premisses  :  he 
says,  ''  Protestants  are  bound  to  join  the  Church, — 
under  circumstances,"  and  ''  I  am  a  Protestant — in  a 
certain  sense;"  and  therefore  the  syllogism,  at  first 
sight,  does  not  touch  him  at  all. 

Before,  then,  he  grants  the  major,  he  asks  whether 
all  Protestants  really  are  bound  to  join  the  Church — 
are  they  bound  in  case  they  do  not  feel  themselves 
bound ;  if  they  are  satisfied  that  their  present  reli- 
gion is  a  safe  one ;  if  they  are  sure  it  is  true  ;  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  have  grave  doubts  as  to  the 
doctrinal  fidelity  and  purity  of  the  Church  ;  if  they 
are  convinced  that  the  Church  is  corrupt ;  if  their 


278  Liference, 

conscience  instinctively  rejects  certain  of  its  doc- 
trines ;  if  history  convinces  them  that  the  Pope's 
power  is  wot  jure  divino,  but  merely  in  the  order  of 
Providence  ?  if,  again,  they  are  in  a  heathen  country 
Avhere  priests  are  not  ?  or  where  the  only  priest  who 
is  to  be  found  exacts  of  them,  as  a  condition  of  their 
reception,  a  profession,  which  the  Creed  of  Pope  Pius 
IV.  says  nothing  about ;  for  instance,  that  the  Holy 
See  is  fallible  even  when  it  teaches,  or  that  the  Tem- 
poral Power  is  an  anti-Christian  corruption?  On  one 
or  other  of  such  grounds  he  thinks  he  need  not 
change  his  rehgion ;  but  presently  he  asks  himself, 
Can  a  Protestant  be  in  such  a  state  as  to  be  really 
satisfied  with  his  religion,  as  he  has  just  now  been 
professing?  Can  he  possibly  believe  Protestantism 
came  from  above,  as  a  whole  ?  how  much  of  it  can  he 
believe  came  from  above?  and,  as  to  that  portion 
which  he  feels  did  come  from  above,  has  it  not  all 
been  derived  to  him  from  the  Church,  when  traced 
to  its  source?  Is  not  Protestantism  in  itself  a  nega- 
tion? Did  not  the  Church  exist  before  it?  and  can 
he  be  sure,  on  the  other  hand,  that  any  one  of  the 
Church's  doctrines  is  not  from  above  ?  Further,  he 
finds  he  has  to  make  up  his  mind  what  is  a  corrup- 
tion, and  what  are  the  tests  of  it ;  what  he  means  by 
a  religion;  whether  it  is  obligatory  to  profess  any 
religion  in  particular ;  what  are  the  standards  of 
truth  and  falsehood  in  religion;  and  what  are  the 
special  claims  of  the  Church. 

And  so,  again,  as  to  the  minor  premiss,  perhaps  he 
will  answer,  that  he  is  not  a  Protestant ;  that  he  is  a 
Catholic  of  the  early  undivided  Church  ;  that  he  is  a 
Catholic,  but  not  a  Papist.     Then  he  has  to  deter- 


Infoiinal  Iiifei'ence.  279 

mine  questions  about  division,  schism,  visible  unity, 
what  is  essential,  what  is  desirable  ;  about  provisional 
states ;  as  to  the  adjustment  of  the  Church's  claims 
with  those  of  personal  judgment  and  responsibility ; 
as  to  the  soul  of  the  Church  contrasted  with  the 
body  ;  as  to  degrees  of  proof,  and  the  degree  neces- 
sary for  his  conversion ;  as  to  what  is  called  his 
providential  position,  and  the  responsibility  of 
change  ;  as  to  the  sincerity  of  his  purpose  to  fol- 
low the  Divine  Will,  whithersoever  it  may  lead  him  ; 
as  to  his  intellectual  capacity  of  investigating  such 
questions  at  all. 

None  of  these  questions,  as  they  come  before  him, 
admit  of  simple  demonstration  ;  but  each  carries  with 
it  a  number  of  independent  probable  arguments,  suffi- 
cient, Avhen  united,  for  a  reasonable  conclusion  about 
itself.  And  first  he  determines  that  the  questions  are 
such  as  he  personally,  with  such  talents  or  attain- 
ments as  he  has,  may  fairly  entertain ;  and  then  he 
goes  on,  after  deliberation,  to  form  a  definite  judg- 
ment upon  them  ;  and  determines  them,  one  way  or 
another,  in  their  bearing  on  the  bald  syllogism  which 
was  originally  offered  to  his  acceptance.  And,  we 
will  sa}^  he  comes  to  the  conclusion,  that  he  ought  to 
accept  it  as  true  in  his  case ;  that  he  is  a  Protestant 
in  such  a  sense,  of  such  a  complexion,  of  such  know- 
ledge, under  such  circumstances,  as  to  be  called 
upon  by  duty  to  join  the  Church ;  that  this  is  a 
conclusion  of  which  he  can  be  certain,  and  ought  to 
be  certain,  and  that  he  will  be  incurring  grave  re- 
sponsibihty,  if  he  does  not  accept  it  as  certain,  and 
act  upon  the  certainty  of  it.  And  to  this  conclusion 
he  comes,  as  is  plain,  not  by  any  possible  verbal  enu- 


2  So  Inference, 

meration  of  all  the  considerations,  minute  but  abun- 
dant, delicate  but  effective,  which  unite  to  bring  him  to 
it ;  but  by  a  mental  comprehension  of  the  whole  case, 
and  a  discernment  of  its  upshot,  sometimes  after  much 
deliberation,  but,  it  may  be,  by  a  clear  and  rapid  act 
of  the  intellect,  always,  however,  by  an  unwritten 
summing-up,  something  like  the  summation  of  the 
terms  of  an  algebraical  series. 

This  I  conceive  to  be  the  only  real  reasoning  in 
concrete  matters  ;  and  it  has  these  characteristics  : — 
First,  it  does  not  supersede  the  logical  form  of  infer- 
ence, but  is  one  and  the  same  with  it ;  only  it  is  no 
longer  an  abstraction,  but  carried  out  into  the  real- 
ities of  life,  its  premisses  being  instinct  with  the 
substance  and  the  momentum  of  that  mass  of  prob- 
abilities, which,  acting  upon  each  other  in  correction, 
and  confirmation,  carry  it  home  definitely  to  the 
individual  case  which  is  its  original  scope. 

Next,  from  what  has  been  said  it  is  plain,  that  such 
a  process  of  reasoning  is  more  or  less  implicit,  and 
w^ithout  the  direct  and  full  advertence  of  the  mind 
exercising  it.  As  by  the  use  of  our  eyesight  we 
recognize  two  brothers,  yet  without  being  able  to 
express  what  it  is  by  which  we  distinguish  them ;  as 
at  first  sight  we  perhaps  confuse  them  together,  but 
on  better  knowledge,  we  see  no  likeness  between 
them  at  all ;  as  it  requires  an  artist's  eye  to  determine 
what  lines  and  shades  make  a  countenance  look  young 
or  old,  amiable,  thoughtful,  angry  or  conceited,  the 
principle  of  discrimination  being  in  each  case  real, 
but  implicit ; — so  is  the  mind  unequal  to  a  complete 
analysis  of  the  motives  Avhich  carry  it  on  to  a  par- 
ticular conclusion,  and  is  swayed  and  determined  by 


Informal  Inference,  281 

a  body  of  proof,  which  it  recognizes  only  as  a  body, 
and  not  in  its  constituent  parts. 

And  thirdly,  it  is  plain,  that,  in  this  investigation  of 
the  method  of  concrete  inference,  we  have  not  ad- 
vanced one  step  towards  depriving  inference  of  its 
conditional  character ;  for  it  is  still  as  dependent  on 
premisses,  as  it  is  in  its  elementary  idea.  On  the 
contrary,  we  have  rather  added  to  the  obscurity  of 
the  problem  ;  for  a  syllogism  is  at  least  a  demonstra- 
tion, when  the  premisses  are  granted,  but  a  cumula- 
tion of  probabilities,  over  and  above  their  implicit 
character,  will  vary  both  in  their  number  and  their 
separate  estimated  value,  according  to  the  particular 
intellect  which  is  employed  upon  it.  It  follows  that 
what  to  one  intellect  is  a  proof  is  not  so  to  another, 
and  that  the  certainty  of  a  proposition  does  pro- 
perly consist  in  the  certitude  of  the  mind  v/hich 
contemplates  it.  And  this  of  course  may  be  said 
without  prejudice  to  the  objective  truth  or  falsehood 
of  propositions,  since  it  does  not  follow  that  these 
propositions  on  the  one  hand  are  not  true,  and  based 
on  right  reason,  and  those  on  the  other  not  false,  and 
based  on  false  reason,  because  not  all  men  discrimin- 
ate them  in  the  same  way. 

Having  thus  explained  the  view  which  I  would  take 
of  reasoning  in  the  concrete,  viz.  that,  from  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  and  from  the  constitution  of  the 
human  mind,  certitude  is  the  result  of  arguments 
which,  taken  in  the  letter,  and  not  in  their  full  im- 
plicit sense,  are  but  probabilities,  I  proceed  to  dwell 
on  some  instances  and  circumstances  of  a  phenomenon 
which  seems  to  me  as  undeniable  as  to  many  it  may 
be  perplexing. 


282  Inference, 


Let  us  take  three  instances  belonging  respectively 
to  the  present,  the  past,  and  the  future. 

I.  We  are  all  absolutely  certain,  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  doubt,  that  Great  Britain  is  an  island.  We 
give  to  that  proposition  our  deliberate  and  uncondi- 
tional adhesion.  There  is  no  security  on  which  we 
should  be  better  content  to  stake  our  interests,  our 
property,  our  welfare,  than  on  the  fact  that  we  are 
living  in  an  island.  We  have  no  fear  of  any  geogra- 
phical discovery  which  may  reverse  our  belief  We 
should  be  amused  or  angry  at  the  assertion,  as  a  bad 
jest,  did  any  one  say  that  we  are  at  this  time  joined 
to  the  main-land  in  Norway  or  in  France,  though  a 
canal  was  cut  across  the  isthmus.  We  are  as  little 
exposed  to  the  misgiving,  "  Perhaps  we  are  not  on  an 
island  after  all,"  as  to  the  question,  ''  Is  it  quite  cer- 
tain that  the  angle  in  a  semi-circle  is  a  right-angle  ?" 
It  is  a  simple  and  primary  truth  with  us,  if  any  truth 
is  such ;  to  believe  it  is  as  legitimate  an  exercise  of 
assent,  as  there  are  legitimate  exercises  of  doubt  or 
of  opinion.  This  is  the  position  of  our  minds  towards 
our  insularity  ;  yet  are  the  arguments  producible  for 
it  (to  use  the  common  expression)  in  black  and  white 
commensurate  with  this  overpowering  certitude 
about  it  ? 

Our  reasons  for  believing  that  we  are  circumnavi- 
gable  are  such  as  these :— first,  we  have  been  so 
taught  in  our  childhood,  and  it  is  so  in  all  the  maps  ; 
next,  we  have  never  heard  it  contradicted  or  ques- 
tioned ;  on  the  contrary,  every  one  whom  Ave  have 
heard  speak  on  the  subject  of  Great   Britain,  every 


Informal  Infe7X7ice.  283 

book  we  have  read,  invariably  took  it  for  granted ; 
our  vv^hole  national  history,  the  routine  transactions 
and  current  events  of  the  country,  our  social  and 
commercial  system,  our  political  relations  with  for- 
eigners, imply  it  in  one  way  or  another.  Number- 
less facts,  or  what  we  consider  facts,  rest  on  the  truth 
of  it ;  no  received  fact  rests  on  its  being  otherwise. 
If  there  is  anywhere  a  junction  between  us  and  the 
continent,  where  is  it  ?  and  how  do  we  know  it  ?  is  it 
in  the  north  or  in  the  south  ?  There  is  a  manifest 
rediLctio  ad  absurdicm  attached  to  the  notion  that  we 
can  be  deceived  on  such  a  point  as  this. 

However,  negative  arguments  and  circumstantial 
evidence  are  not  all,  in  such  a  matter,  which  we  have 
a  right  to  require.  They  are  not  the  highest  kind  of 
proof  possible.  Those  who  have  circumnavigated 
the  island  have  a  right  to  be  certain :  have  we  ever 
ourselves  even  fallen  in  with  any  one  who  has  ?  And 
as  to  the  common  belief,  what  is  the  proof  that  we  are 
not  all  of  us  beheving  it  on  the  credit  of  each  other  ? 
And  then,  when  it  is  said  that  every  one  beheves  it, 
and  every  thing  implies  it,  how  much  comes  home  to 
me  personally  of  this  ''  every  one"  and  ''  every  thing  "  ? 
The  question  is.  Why  do  I  believe  it  myself?  A  liv- 
ing statesman  is  said  to  have  fancied  Demerara  an 
island  ;  his  belief  was  an  impression  ;  have  we  person- 
ally more  than  an  impression,  if  we  view  the  matter 
argumentatively,  a  lifelong  impression  about  Great 
Britain,  like  the  belief,  so  long  and  so  widely  enter- 
tained, that  the  earth  was  immovable,  and  the  sun 
careered  round  it?  I  am  not  at  all  insinuating 
that  we  are  not  rational  in  our  certitude ;  I 
only   mean   that  we   cannot   analyze   a  proof   satis- 


284  Inference, 

factorily,  the  result  of  Avhich  good  sense  guarantees 
to  us. 

2.  Father  Hardouin  maintamed  that  Terence's 
Pla}' s,  Virgil's  *'  ^neid,"  Horace's  Odes,  and  the 
Histories  of  Livy  and  Tacitus,  were  the  forgeries  of 
the  monks  of  the  thirteenth  century.  That  he  should 
be  able  to  argue  in  behalf  of  such  a  position,  shows 
of  course  that  the  proof  in  behalf  of  the  received 
opinion  is  not  overwhelming.  That  is,  we  have  no 
means  of  inferring  unconditionally,  that  Virgil's  epi- 
sode of  Dido,  or  of  the  Sibyl,  and  Horace's  ''  Te 
quoque  mensorem "  and  ''Quern  tu  Melpomene," 
belong  to  that  Augustan  age,  which  owes  its  celebri- 
ty mainly  to  those  poets.  Our  common-sense,  how- 
ever, believes  in  their  genuineness  without  any  hesi- 
tation or  reserve,  as  if  it  had  been  demonstrated,  and 
not  in  proportion  to  the  available  evidence  in  its  favor, 
or  the  balance  of  arguments. 

So  much  at  first  sight ;  but  what  are  our  grounds 
for  dismissing  thus  summarily,  as  we  are  likely  to  do, 
a  theoi-y  such  as  Hardouin's  ?  For  let  it  be  observed 
first,  that  all  knowledge  of  the  Latin  classics  comes 
to  us  from  the  medieval  copies  of  them,  and  the}^  who 
transcribed  them  had  the  opportunity  of  forging  or 
garbling  them.  We  are  simply  at  their  mercy ;  for 
neither  by  oral  transmission,  nor  b}^  monumental  in- 
scriptions, nor  by  contemporaneous  manuscripts  are 
the  works  of  Virgil,  Horace,  and  Terence,  of  Livy 
and  Tacitus,  brought  to  our  knowledge.  The  exist- 
ing copies,  whenever  made,  are  to  us  the  autographic 
orio^inals.  Next,  it  must  be  considered,  that  the  nu- 
merous  religious  bodies,  then  existing  over  the  face 
of  Europe,  had  leisure  enough,  in  the  course  of  a  cen- 


Informal  Ltference,  285 

tury,  to  compose,  not  only  all  the  classics,  but  all  the 
Fathers  too.  The  question  is,  whether  they  had  the 
ability.  This  is  the  main  point  on  which  the  inquiry 
turns,  or  at  least  the  most  obvious ;  and  it  forms  one 
of  those  arguments,  which,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  are  felt  rather  than  are  convertible  into  syllo- 
gisms. Hardouin  allows  that  the  Georgics,  Horace's 
Satires  and  Epistles,  and  the  v/hole  of  Cicero,  are 
genuine  :  we  have  a  standard  then  in  these  undisputed 
compositions  of  the  Augustan  age.  We  have  a  stand- 
ard also,  in  the  extant  medieval  works,  of  what  the 
thirteenth  century  could  do  ;  and  we  see  at  once  how 
v/idely  the  disputed  works  differ  from  the  m.edieval. 
Nov/  could  the  thirteenth  century  simulate  Augustan 
writers  better  than  the  Augustan  could  simulate 
such  writers  as  those  of  the  thirteenth  ?  No.  Per- 
haps, when  the  subject  is  critically  examined,  the 
question  may  be  brought  to  a  more  simple  issue ;  but 
as  to  our  personal  reasons  for  receiving  as  genuine 
the  whole  of  Virgil,  Horace,  Liv}^  Tacitus,  and  Ter- 
ence, they  are  summed  up  in  our  conviction  that  the 
monks  had  not  the  ability  to  write  them.  That  is, 
we  take  for  granted  that  v/e  are  sufficiently  informed 
about  the  capabilities  of  the  human  mind,  and  the 
conditions  of  genius,  to  be  quite  sure  that  an  age 
Avhich  was  fertile  in  great  ideas  and  in  momentous 
elements  of  the  future,  robust  in  thought,  hopeful  in 
its  anticipations,  of  singular  intellectual  curiosity  and 
acumen,  and  of  high  genius  in  at  least  one  of  the  fine 
arts,  could  not,  for  the  very  reason  of  its  pre-eminence 
in  its  own  line,  have  an  equal  pre-eminence  in  a  con- 
trary one.  We  do  not  pretend  to  be  able  to  draw  the 
line   between  what  the  medieval  intellect  could  or 


286  Inference. 

could  not  do ;  but  we  feel  sure  that  at  least  it  could 
not  write  the  classics.  An  instinctive  sense  of  this, 
and  a  faith  in  testimony,  are  the  sufficient,  but  the 
undeveloped  argument  on  v/hich  to  ground  our  cer- 
titude. 

I  will  add,  that,  if  we  deal  with  arguments  in  the 
mere  letter,  the  question  of  the  authorship  of  works 
in  any  case  has  much  difficulty.  I  have  noticed  it  in 
the  instance  of  Shakespeare,  and  of  Newton.  We 
are  all  certain  that  Johnson  wrote  the  prose  of  John- 
son, and  Pope  the  poetry  of  Pope  ;  but  what  is  there 
but  prescription,  at  least  after  contemporaries  are 
dead,  to  connect  together  the  author  of  the  work  and 
the  owner  of  the  name?  Our  lawyers  prefer  the 
examination  of  present  witnesses  to  affidavits  on 
paper  ;  but  the  tradition  of  "  testimonia,"  such  as  are 
prefixed  to  the  classics  and  the  Fathers,  together  with 
the  absence  of  dissentient  voices,  is  the  adequate 
groundwork  of  our  belief  in  the  history  of  literature. 

3.  Once  more  :  what  are  my  grounds  for  thinking 
that  I,  in  my  own  particular  case,  shall  die  ?  I  am  as 
certain  of  it  in  my  own  innermost  mind,  as  I  am  that 
I  now  live  ;  but  what  is  the  distinct  evidence  on 
which  I  allow  myself  to  be  certain  ?  how  would  it 
tell  in  a  court  of  justice  ?  how  should  I  fare  under  a 
cross-examination  upon  the  grounds  of  my  certi- 
tude ?  Demonstration  of  course  I  cannot  have  of  a 
future  event,  unless  by  means  of  a  Divine  Voice ;  but 
what  logical  defence  can  I  make  for  that  undoubting, 
obstinate  anticipation  of  it,  of  which  I  could  not  rid 
myself,  if  I  tried? 

First,  the  future  cannot  be  proved  a  posteriori ; 
therefore  w^e  are  compelled  by  the  nature  of  the  case 


Informal  Infere^ice.  287 

to  put  up  with  a  priori  arguments,  that  is,  with  ante- 
cedent probabiHty,  which  is  by  itself  no  logical 
proof.  Men  tell  me  that  there  is  a  law  of  death, 
meaning  by  law  a  necessity ;  and  I  answer  that  they 
are  throwing  dust  into  my  eyes,  giving  me  words 
instead  of  things.  What  is  a  law  but  a  generalized 
fact?  and  what  power  has  the  past  over  the  future? 
and  what  power  has  the  case  of  others  over  my  own 
case  ?  and  how  many  deaths  have  I  seen  ?  how  many 
ocular  witnesses  have  imparted  to  me  their  experi- 
ence of  deaths,  sufficient  to  establish  what  is  called  a 
law  ? 

But  let  there  be  a  law  of  death  ;  so  there  is  a  law, 
w*e  are  told,  that  the  planets,  if  let  alone,  w^ould  se- 
verally fall  into  the  sun — it  is  the  centrifugal  law 
which  hinders  it,  and  so  the  centripetal  law  is  never 
carried  out.  In  like  manner  I  am  not  under  the  law 
of  death  alone,  I  am  under  a  thousand  laws,  if  I  am 
under  one,  and  they  thwart  and  counteract  each 
other,  and  jointly  determine  the  irregular  line,  along 
which  my  actual  history  runs,  divergent  from  the 
special  direction  of  any  one  of  them.  No  law  is  car- 
ried out,  except  in  cases  where  it  acts  freely :  how  do 
I  know  that  it  will  be  allowed  its  free  action  in  my 
particular  case  ?  We  often  are  able  to  avert  death 
by  medical  treatment:  why  should  death  have  its 
effect,  sooner  or  later,  in  every  case  conceivable  ? 

It  is  true  that  the  human  frame,  in  all  instances 
which  come  before  me,  first  grows,  and  then  declines, 
wastes,  and  decays,  in  visible  preparation  for  dissolu- 
tion. We  see  death  seldom,  but  of  this  decline  we 
are  w^itnesses  daily ;  still,  it  is  a  plain  fact,  that  most 
men  who  die,  die,  not  by  any  law  of  death,  but  by 


288  Inference. 

the  law  of  disease  ;  and  some  Vv^riters  have  questioned 
whether  death  is  ever,  strictly  speaking,  natural. 
Now,  are  diseases  necessary?  is  there  any  law  that 
every  one,  sooner  or  later,  must  fall  under  the  power 
of  disease  ?  and  what  w^ould  happen  on  a  large  scale, 
w^ere  there  no  diseases  ?  Is  what  we  call  the  law  of 
death  any  thing  more  than  the  chance  of  disease  ? 
Is  the  prospect  of  my  death,  in  its  logical  evidence, 
— as  that  evidence  is  brought  home  to  me — much 
more  than  a  high  probability  ? 

The  strongest  proof  I  have  for  my  inevitable  mor- 
tality is  the  rcductio  ad  absiirduin.  Can  I  point  to  the 
man,  in  historic  times,  who  has  lived  his  two  hundred 
3^ears  ?  What  has  become  of  past  generations  of  men, 
unless  it  is  true  that  they  suffered  dissolution  ?  But 
this  is  a  circuitous  argument  to  warrant  a  conclusion 
to  which  I  adhere  so  relentlessly.  Any  how,  there  is 
a  considerable  "  surplusage,"  as  Locke  calls  it,  of  be- 
lief over  proof,  when  I  determine  that  I  individually 
must  die.  But  v/hat  logic  cannot  do,  my  own  com- 
mon-sense, which  cannot  express  itself  in  words,  does 
for  me,  and  I  am  possessed  with  the  most  precise, 
absolute,  masterful  certitude  of  my  dying  some  day 
or  other. 

I  am  led  on  by  these  reflections  to  make  another 
remark.  If  it  is  difficult  to  explain  how  a  man  knows 
that  he  shall  die,  is  it  not  more  difficult  for  him  to 
satisfy  himself  how  he  knows  that  he  was  born  ?  His 
knowledge  about  himself  does  not  rest  on  memory, 
nor  on  distinct  testimon}^,  nor  on  circumstantial  evi- 
dence. Can  he  bring  into  one  focus  of  proof  the  rea- 
sons which  make  him  so  sure  ?  I  am  not  speaking  of 
scientific  men,  who  have  diverse  channels  of  know- 


Info7inal  Inference,  289 

ledge,  but  of  an  ordinary  individual,  as  one  of  our- 
selves. 

Answers  doubtless  may  be  given  to  some  of  my 
questions ;  but,  on  the  whole,  I  think  it  is  the  fact  that 
many  of  our  most  obstinate  and  most  reasonable  cer 
titudes  depend  on  proofs  which  are  informal  and  per- 
sonal, w^hich  baffle  our  powers  of  analysis,  and  cannot 
be  brought  under  logical  rule,  because  they  cannot 
be  submitted  to  logical  statistics.  If  we  must  speak 
of  Law,  this  recognition  of  a  correlation  between 
certitude  and  implicit  proof  seems  to  me  a  law  of  our 
minds. 


I  said  just  now  that  an  object  of  sense  presents 
itself  to  our  view  as  one  whole,  and  not  in  its  separate 
details  :  we  take  it  in,  recognize  it,  and  discriminate 
it  from  other  objects,  all  at  once.  Such  too  is  the  in- 
tellectual view  we  take  of  the  momenta  of  proof  for  a 
concrete  truth  ;  we  grasp  the  full  tale  of  premisses 
and  the  conclusion,  per  modiwi  tmiiis, — by  a  sort  of 
instinctive  perception  of  the  legitimate  conclusion  in 
and  through  the  premisses,  not  by  a  formal  juxta-po- 
sition  of  propositions  ;  though  of  course  such  a  juxta- 
position is  useful  and  natural,  both  to  direct  and  to 
verify,  just  as  in  objects  of  sight  our  notice  of  bodily 
peculiarities,  or  the  remarks  of  others  may  aid  us  in 
establishing  a  case  of  disputed  identity.  And,  as  this 
man  or  that  w411  receive  his  own  impression  of  one 
and  the  same  person,  and  judge  differently  from 
others  about  his  countenance,  its  expression,  its 
moral  significance,  its  physical  contour  and  com- 
plexion, so  an  intellectual  question  may  strike  two 


290  Inference. 

minds  very  differently,  may  awaken  in  them  dis- 
tinct associations,  may  be  invested  by  them  in  con- 
trary characteristics,  and  lead  them  to  opposite 
conclusions ; — and  so,  again,  a  body  of  proof,  or 
a  line  of  argument,  may  produce  a  distinct, 
nay,  a  dissimilar  effect,  as  addressed  to  one  or  to  the 
other. 

Thus  in  concrete  reasonings  we  are  in  great  meas- 
ure thrown  back  into  that  condition,  from  which 
logic  proposed  to  rescue  us.  We  judge  for  ourselves, 
by  our  own  lights,  and  on  our  own  principles;  and 
our  criterion  of  truth  is  not  so  much  the  manipula- 
tion of  propositions,  as  the  intellectual  and  moral 
character  of  the  person  maintaining  them,  and  the 
ultimate  silent  effect  of  his  arguments  or  conclusions 
upon  our  minds. 

It  is  this  distinction  between  ratiocination  as  the 
exercise  of  a  living  faculty  in  the  individual  intellect, 
and  mere  skill  in  argumentative  science,  which  is  the 
true  interpretation  of  the  prejudice  which  exists 
against  logic  in  the  popular  mind,  and  of  the  animad- 
versions which  are  levelled  against  it,  as  that  its  for- 
mulas make  a  pedant  and  a  doctrinaire,  that  it  never 
makes  converts,  that  it  leads  to  rationalism,  that 
Englishmen  are  too  practical  to  be  logical,  that  an 
ounce  of  common-sense  goes  farther  than  many  cart- 
loads of  logic,  that  Laputa  is  the  land  of  logicians, 
and  the  like.  Such  maxims  mean,  when  analyzed, 
that  the  processes  of  reasoning  which  legitimately 
lead  to  assent,  to  action,  to  certitude,  are  in  fact  too 
multiform,  subtle,  omnigenous,  too  implicit,  to  allow 
of  being  measured  by  rule,  that  they  are  after  all 
personal, — verbal  argumentation  being  useful  only  in 


Informal  Infeixnce.  291 

subordination  to  a  higher  logic.  It  is  this  which  was 
meant  by  the  Judge  who,  when  asked  for  his  advice 
by  a  friend,  on  his  being  called  to  important  duties 
which  were  new  to  him,  bade  him  always  lay  down 
the  law  boldly,  but  never  give  his  reasons,  for  his  de- 
cision was  likely  to  be  right,  and  his  reasons  sure  to 
be  unsatisfactory.  This  is  the  point  which  I  proceed 
to  illustrate. 

I.  I  will  take  a  question  of  the  present  moment. 
"■  We  shall  have  a  European  w?ir,  for  Greece  is  auda- 
ciously defying  Turkey."  How  are  we  to  test  the 
validity  of  the  reason,  implied,  not  expressed,  in  the 
word  ''  for  "  ?  Only  the  judgment  of  diplomatists, 
statesmen,  capitalists,  and  the  like,  founded  on  expe- 
rience, strengthened  by  practical  and  historical  know- 
ledge, controlled  by  self-interest,  can  decide  the 
worth  of  that  "  for  "  in  relation  to  assenting  or  not 
assenting  to  the  conclusion  which  depends  on  it.  The 
argument  is  from  concrete  fact  to  concrete  fact. 
How  will  mere  logical  inferences,  w^hich  cannot  pro- 
ceed without  general  and  abstract  propositions,  help 
us  on  to  the  determination  of  this  particular  case  ? 
It  is  not  the  case  of  Switzerland  attacking  Austria, 
or  of  Portugal  attacking  Spain,  or  of  Belgium  attack- 
ing Prussia,  but  a  case  without  parallels.  To  draw  a 
scientific  conclusion,  the  argument  must  run  some- 
what in  this  way : — ''All  audacious  defiances  of  Tur- 
key on  the  part  of  Greece  must  end  in  a  European 
war  ;  these  present  acts  of  Greece  are  such  :  ergo  ;" 
— where  the  major  premiss  is  more  difficult  to  accept 
than  the  conclusion,  and  the  proof  becomes  an  "  ob- 
scurum  per  obscurius."  But,  in  truth,  I  should  not 
betake  myself  to  some  one  universal  proposition  to 


292  Inference. 

defend  my  view  of  the  matter  ;  I  should  determine 
the  particular  case  by  its  particular  circumstances, 
by  the  combination  of  many  uncatalogued  experi-^ 
ences  floating  in  my  memory,  of  many  reflections, 
variously  produced,  felt  rather  than  capable  of  state- 
ment ;  and  if  I  had  them  not,  I  should  go  to 
those  who  had.  I  assent  in  consequence  of  some 
such  complex  act  of  judgment,  or  from  faith  in 
those  who  are  capable  of  making  it,  and  syllogism 
has  no  part,  even  verificatory,  in  the  action  of  my 
mind. 

I  take  this  instance  at  random  in  illustration  ;  now 
let  me  follow  it  up  by  more  serious  cases. 

2.  Leighton  says,  ''  What  a  full  confession  do  we 
make  of  our  dissatisfaction  with  the  objects  of  our 
bodily  senses,  that  in  our  attempts  to  express  what 
we  conceive  of  the  best  of  beings  and  the  greatest  of 
felicities  to  be,  we  describe  by  the  exact  contraries 
of  all  that  we  experience  here, — the  one  as  infinite, 
incomprehensible,  immutable,  etc.  ;  the  other  as  in- 
corruptible, undefiled,  and  that  passeth  not  away. 
At  all  events,  this  coincidence,  say  rather  identity 
of  attributes,  is  sufficient  to  apprise  us  that,  to  be 
inheritors  of  bhss,  we  must  become  the  children  of 
God."  Coleridge  quotes  this  passage,  and  adds, 
''  Another  and  more  fruitful,  perhaps  more  sohd, 
inference  from  the  facts  would  be,  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  human  mind  Avhich  makes  it  know  that  in 
all  finite  quantity  there  is  an  infinite,  in  all  measures 
of  time  an  eternal ;  that  the  latter  are  the  basis,  the 
substance,  of  the  former ;  and  that,  as  we  truly  are 
only  as  far  as  God  is  with  us,  so  neither  can  we  truly 
possess,  that  is,  enjoy  our  being  or  any  other  real 


Infor7nal  Inference.  293 

good,  but  by  living  in  the  sense  of  His  holy  pre- 
sence."- 

What  is  this  an  argument  for?  how  few  readers 
will  enter  into  either  premiss  or  conclusion !  and  of 
those  who  understand  what  it  means,  will  not  at  least 
some  confess  that  they  understand  it  by  fits  and  starts, 
not  at  all  times  ?  Can  we  ascertain  its  force  by  mood 
and  figure?  Is  there  any  royal  road  by  which  we 
may  indolently  be  carried  along  into  the  acceptance 
of  it  ?  Does  not  the  author  rightly  number  it  among 
his  ''  aids  "  for  our  ''  reflection,"  not  instruments  for 
our  compulsion?  It  is  plain  that,  if  the  passage  is 
worth  any  thing,  v/e  must  secure  that  worth  for  our 
own  use  by  the  personal  action  of  our  own  minds,  or 
else  we  shall  be  only  professing  and  asserting  its  doc- 
trine, Avithout  having  any  ground  or  right  to  assert 
it.  And  our  preparation  for  understanding  and  mak- 
mg  use  of  it  will  be  the  general  state  of  our  mental 
discipline  and  cultivation,  our  own  experiences,  our 
appreciation  of  religious  ideas,  the  perspicacity  and 
steadiness  of  our  intellectual  vision. 

3.  It  is  argued  by  Hume  against  the  actual  occur- 
rence of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  miracles,  that, 
whereas  ''  it  is  experience  only  which  gives  authority 
to  human  testimony,  and  it  is  the  same  experience 
which  assures  us  of  the  laws  of  nature,"  therefore, 
'^  when  these  two  kinds  of  experience  are  contrary  " 
to  each  other,  ^'  we  are  bound  to  subtract  the  one 
from  the  other;"  and,  in  consequence,  since  we  have 
no  experience  of  a  violation  of  natural  laws,  and  much 
experience  of  the  violation  of  truth,  "  we  may  estab- 

*  "  Aids  to  Reflection,"  p.  59,  ed.  1839. 


294  Inference. 

lish  it  as  a  maxim  that  no  human  testimony  can  have 
such  force  as  to  prove  a  miracle,  and  make  it  a  just 
foundation  for  any  such  system  of  rehgion."  - 

I  will  accept  the  general  proposition,  but  I  resist 
its  application.  Doubtless  it  is  abstractedly  more 
likely  that  men  should  lie  than  that  the  order  of 
nature  should  be  infringed ;  but  what  is  abstract 
reasoning  to  a  question  of  concrete  fact  ?  To  arrive 
at  the  fact  of  any  matter,  we  must  eschew  generali- 
ties, and  take  things  as  they  stand,  with  all  their 
circumstances.  A  priori,  of  course  the  acts  of  men 
are  not  so  trustworthy  as  the  order  of  nature,  and 
the  pretence  of  miracles  is  in  fact  more  common 
than  the  occurrence.  But  the  question  is  not  about 
miracles  in  general,  or  men  in  general,  but  definitely, 
whether  these  particular  miracles,  ascribed  to  the 
particular  Peter,  James,  and  John,  are  more  likely  to 
have  been  or  not ;  whether  they  are  unlikely,  suppos- 
ing that  there  is  a  Power,  external  to  the  world,  who 
can  bring  them  about ;  supposing  they  are  the  only 
means  by  which  He  can  reveal  Himself  to  those  who 
need  a  revelation;  supposing  He  is  likely  to  reveal 
Himself;  that  He  has  a  great  end  in  doing  so;  that 
the  professed  miracles  in  question  are  like  His  natu- 
ral works,  and  such  as  He  is  likely  to  work,  in  case 
He  wrought  miracles ;  that  great  effects,  otherwise 
unaccountable,  in  the  event  followed  upon  the  acts 
said  to  be  miraculous ;  that  they  were  from  the  first 
accepted  as  true  by  large  numbers  of  men  against 
their  natural  interests ;  that  the  reception  of  them  as 
true  has  left  its  mark  upon  the  world,  as  no  other 

*  Works,  vol.  iii.,  p.  178,  ed.  1770. 


Informal  Inference,  295 

event  ever  did ;  that,  viewed  in  their  effects,  they 
have — that  is,  the  belief  of  them  has — served  to  raise 
human  nature  to  a  high  moral  standard,  otherwise 
unattainable ;  these  and  the  like  considerations  are 
parts  of  a  great  complex  argument,  which  so  far  can 
be  put  into  propositions,  but  which,  between,  and 
around,  and  behind  these,  is  implicit  and  secret,  and 
cannot  by  any  ingenuity  be  imprisoned  in  a  formula, 
and  packed  into  a  nut-shell.  These  various  condi- 
tions may  be  decided  in  the  affirmative  or  in  the 
negative.  That  is  a  further  point ;  here  I  only  insist 
upon  the  nature  of  the  argument,  if  it  is  to  be  philo- 
sophical. It  must  be  no  smart  antithesis  which  may 
look  well  on  paper,  but  the  living  action  of  the  mind 
on  a  great  problem  of  fact ;  and  we  must  summon  to 
our  aid  all  our  powers  and  resources,  if  we  would 
encounter  it  worthily,  and  not  as  if  it  were  a  literary 
essay. 

4.  ''  Consider  the  establishment  of  the  Christian 
religion,"  says  Pascal  in  his  ''  Thoughts."  "  Here 
is  a  religion  contrary  to  our  nature,  which  establishes 
itself  in  men's  minds  with  so  much  mildness,  as  to 
use  no  external  force ;  with  so  much  energy,  that  no 
tortures  could  silence  its  martyrs  and  confessors ; 
and  consider  the  holiness,  devotion,  humility  of  its 
true  disciples;  its  sacred  books,  their  superhuman 
grandeur,  their  admirable  simplicity.  Consider  the 
character  of  its  Founder ;  His  associates  and  dis- 
ciples, unlettered  men,  yet  possessed  of  Avisdom 
sufficient  to  confound  the  ablest  philosopher;  the 
astonishing  succession  of  prophets  who  heralded 
Him ;  the  state  at  this  day  of  the  Jewish  people 
who  rejected  Him  and  His  religion ;  its  perpetuity 


296  Iiifeixncc. 

and  its  holiness ;  the  light  which  its  doctrines  shed 
upon  the  contrarieties  of  our  nature  ; — after  consider- 
ing these  things,  let  any  man  judge  if  it  be  possible 
to  doubt  about  its  being  the  only  true  one."'- 

This  is  an  argument  parallel  in  its  character  to  that 
by  which  we  ascribe  the  classics  to  the  Augustan 
age.  We  urge,  that,  though  we  cannot  draw  the  line 
definitely  between  what  the  monks  could  do  in  litera- 
ture, and  what  they  could  not,  any  how  Virgil's 
"^neid"  and  the  Odes  of  Horace  are  far  beyond 
the  highest  capacity  of  the  medieval  mind,  which, 
however  great,  was  different  in  the  character  of  its 
endowments.  And  in  like  manner  we  maintain,  that, 
granting  that  we  cannot  decide  how  far  the  human 
mind  can  advance  by  its  own  unaided  powers  in 
religious  ideas  and  sentiments,  and  in  religious  prac- 
tice, still  the  facts  of  Christianity,  as  they  stand,  are 
beyond  what  is  possible  to  man,  and  betoken  the 
presence  of  a  higher  intelligence,  purpose,  and 
might. 

Many  have  been  converted  and  sustained  in  their 
faith  by  this  argument,  w4iich  admits  of  being  power- 
fully stated ;  but  still  such  statement  is  after  all  in- 
tended to  be  a  vehicle  of  thought,  and  to  open  the 
mind  to  the  apprehension  of  the  facts  of  the  case,  and 
to  trace  them  and  their  implications  in  outline,  not  to 
convince  by  the  logic  of  its  mere  wording.  Do  Ave 
not  think  and  muse  as  we  read  it,  try  to  master  it  as 
we  proceed,  put  down  the  book  in  w4iich  we  find  it, 
fill  out  its  details  from  our  own  resources,  and  then 
resume  the  study  of  it?     And  when  we  have  to  give 

*  Taylor's  Translation,  p.  131. 


Informal  Inference.  297 

an  account  of  it  to  others,  should  v/e  make  use  of  its 
language,  or  even  of  its  thoughts,  and  not  rather  of 
its  drift  and  spirit?  Has  it  never  struck  us  what  dif- 
ferent lights  different  minds  throw  upon  the  same 
theory  and  argument,  nay,  how  they  seem  to  be  dif- 
fering in  detail  when  they  are  professing,  and  in  reality 
showing,  a  concurrence  in  it  ?  Have  we  never  found, 
that,  when  a  friend  takes  up  the  defence  of  what 
we  have  written  or  said,  at  first  we  are  unable  to 
recognize  in  his  statement  of  it  what  we  meant  it  to 
convey  ?  It  will  be  our  wisdom  to  avail  ourselves  of 
language,  as  far  as  it  will  go,  but  to  aim  mainly  by 
means  of  it  to  stimulate,  in  those  to  whom  we  address 
ourselves,  a  mode  of  thinking  and  trains  of  thought 
similar  to  our  own,  leading  them  on  by  their  own 
independent  action,  not  by  any  syllogistic  compul- 
sion. Hence  it  is  that  an  intellectual  school  will 
always  have  something  of  an  esoteric  character;  for 
it  is  an  assemblage  of  minds  that  think  ;  their  bond  is 
unity  of  thought,  and  their  words  become  a  sort  of 
tessera,  not  expressing  thought,  but  symbolizing  it. 

Recurring  to  Pascal's  argument,  I  observe  that,  its 
force  depending  upon  the  assumption  that  the  facts 
of  Christianity  are  beyond  human  nature,  therefore, 
according  as  the  powers  of  nature  are  placed  at  a 
high  or  low  standard,  that  force  will  be  greater  or 
less;  and  that  standard  will  vary  according  to  the 
respective  dispositions,  opinions,  and  experiences,  of 
those  to  whom  the  argument  is  addressed.  Thus  its 
value  is  a  personal  question  ;  not  as  if  there  were  not 
an  objective  truth  and  Christianity  as  a  whole  not 
supernatural,  but  that,  when  we  come  to  consider 
where  it  is  that  the  supernatural  presence  is  found, 


298  Ltference. 

there  may  be  fair  differences  of  opinion,  both  as  to 
the  fact  and  the  proof  of  what  is  supernatural.  There 
is  a  multitude  of  facts,  which,  taken  separately,  may 
perhaps  be  natural,  but,  found  together,  must  come 
from  a  source  above  nature ;  and  what  these  are,  and 
how  many  are  necessary,  will  be  variously  deter- 
mined. And  while  every  inquirer  has  a  right  to 
determine  the  question  according  to  the  best  exer- 
cise of  his  judgment,  whether  he  so  determine  it  for 
himself,  or  trust  in  part  or  altogether  to  the  judgment 
of  those  who  have  the  best  claim  to  judge,  in  either 
case  he  is  guided  by  the  implicit  processes  of  the 
reasoning  faculty,  not  by  any  manufacture  of  ar- 
guments forcing  their  way  to  an  irrefragable  con- 
clusion. 

5.  Pascal  writes  in  another  place,  "  He  who  doubts, 
but  seeks  not  to  have  his  doubts  removed,  is  at  once 
the  most  criminal  and  the  most  unhappy  of  mortals. 
If,  together  with  this,  he  is  tranquil  and  self-satisfied, 
if  he  be  vain  of  his  tranquillity,  or  makes  his  state 
a  topic  of  mirth  and  self-gratulation,  I  have  not 
words  to  describe  so  insane  a  creature.  Truly  it  is  to 
the  honor  of  religion  to  have  for  its  adversaries  men 
so  bereft  of  reason  ;  their  opposition,  far  from  being 
formidable,  bears  testimony  to  its  most  distinguishing 
truths ;  for  the  great  object  of  the  Christian  religion 
is  to  establish  the  corruption  of  our  nature,  and  the 
redemption  by  Jesus  Christ."  "^  Elsewhere  he  says 
of  Montaigne,  "  He  involves  every  thing  in  such 
universal,  unmingled  sophism,  as  to  doubt  of  his 
very   doubts.      He   was    a    pure    P3^rrhonist.      He 

*  Ibid.  pp.  108-110. 


Ltformal  Inference.  299 

ridicules  all  attempts  at  certaint}^  in  any  thing. 
Delighted  with  exhibiting  in  his  own  person  the 
contradictions  that  exist  in  the  mind  of  a  free-thinker, 
it  is  all  one  to  him  whether  he  is  successful  or  not  in 
his  argument.  The  virtue  he  loved  was  simple,  soci- 
able, gay,  sprightly,  and  playful ;  to  use  one  of  his 
own  expressions,  *  Ignorance  and  incuriousness  are 
two  charming  pillows  for  a  sound  head.* "  "^ 

Here  are  two  celebrated  writers  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  each  other  in  their  fundamental  view  of  truth 
and  duty.  Shall  we  say  that  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  truth  and  error,  but  that  any  thing  is  truth  to 
a  man  which  he  troweth?  and  not  rather,  as  the 
solution  of  a  great  mystery,  that  truth  there  is,  and 
attainable  it  is,  but  that  its  rays  stream  in  upon  us 
through  the  medium  of  our  moral  as  well  as  our 
intellectual  being;  and  that  in  consequence  that  per- 
ception of  its  first  principles  which  is  natural  to  us  is 
enfeebled,  obstructed,  perverted,  by  allurements  of 
sense  and  the  supremacy  of  self,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  quickened  by  aspirations  after  the  supernat- 
ural ;  so  that  at  length  two  characters  of  mind  are 
brought  out  into  shape,  and  two  standards  and  systems 
of  thought, — each  logical,  yet  contradictory  of  each 
other,  and  only  not  antagonistic  because  they  have 
no  common  ground  on  which  they  can  conflict  ? 

6.  Montaigne  was  endowed  with  a  good  estate, 
health,  leisure,  and  an  easy  temper,  literary  tastes,  and 
a  sufficiency  of  books ;  he  could  afford  thus  to  play 
with  life,  and  the  abysses  into  which  it  leads  us.  Let 
us  take  a  case  in  contrast. 

*  Ibid.  pp.  429-436. 


300  Inference, 

"  I  think,"  says  the  poor  dying-  factory-girl  in  the 
tale,  ''  if  this  should  be  the  end  of  all,  and  if  all  I  have 
been  born  for  is  just  to  work  my  heart  and  life  away, 
and  to  sicken  in  this  dree  place,  with  those  mill-stones 
in  my  ears  for  ever,  until  I  could  scream  out  for  them 
to  stop  and  let  me  have  a  little  piece  of  quiet,  and 
with  the  fluff  filling  my  lungs,  luitil  I  thirst  to  death 
for  one  long  deep  breath  of  the  clear  air,  and  my  mo- 
ther gone,  and  I  never  able  to  tell  her  again  how  I 
loved  her,  and  of  all  my  troubles, — I  think,  if  this  life 
is  the  end,  and  that  there  is  no  God  to  Vvipe  away  all 
tears  from  all  eyes,  I  could  go  mad  !"  '-^ 

Here  is  an  argument  for  the  immortalit}^  of  the 
soul.  As  to  its  force,  be  it  great  or  small,  will  it  make 
a  figure  in  a  logical  disputation,  carried  on  sccundiuu 
artein  ?  Can  any  scientific  common  measure  compel 
the  intellects  of  Dives  and  Lazarus  to  take  the  same 
estimate  of  it?  Is  there  any  test  of  the  validit}'  of  it 
better  than  the  ipse  dixit  of  private  judgment,  that  is, 
the  judgment  of  those  who  have  a  right  to  judge, 
and  next,  the  agreement  of  many  private  judgments 
in  one  and  the  same  view  of  it  ? 

7.  ''  In  order  to  prove  plainly  and  intelligibly," 
says  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke,  "  that  God  is  a  Being,  which 
must  of  necessity  be  endued  with  perfect  knowledge, 
'tis  to  be  observed  that  knowledge  is  a  perfection, 
without  which  the  foregoing  attributes  are  no  perfec- 
tions at  all,  and  without  which  those  which  follow  can 
have  no  foundation.  Where  there  is  no  Knowledge, 
Eternity  and  Immensity  are  as  nothing,  and  Justice, 
Goodness,  Mercy,  and  Wisdom  can  have  no  place. 

*  "  North  and  South." 


Informal  Infe^xnce.  301 

The  idea  of  eternity  and  omnipresence,  devoid  of 
knowledge,  is  as  the  notion  of  darkness  compared 
with  that  of  light.  'Tis  as  a  notion  of  the  world 
without  the  sun  to  illuminate  it ;  'tis  as  the  notion  of 
inanimate  matter  (which  is  the  atheist's  supreme 
cause)  compared  with  that  of  light  and  spirit.  And 
as  for  the  following  attributes  of  Justice,  Goodness, 
Mercy,  and  Wisdom,  'tis  evident  that  without  know- 
ledge there  could  not  possibly  be  any  such  things  as 
these  at  all."  ^ 

The  argument  here  used  in  behalf  of  the  Divine 
Attribute  of  Knowledge  comes  under  the  general 
proposition  that  the  attributes  imply  each  other,  for 
the  denial  of  one  is  the  denial  of  the  rest.  To  some 
minds  this  thesis  is  self-evident ;  others  are  utterly  in- 
sensible to  its  force.  Will  it  bear  bringing  out  into 
words  throughout  the  whole  series  of  its  argumenta- 
tive links  ?  for  if  it  does,  then  either  those  who  main- 
tain it  or  those  who  reject  it,  the  one  or  the  other, 
will  be  compelled  by  logical  necessity  to  confess  that 
they  are  in  error.  ''  God  is  wise,  if  He  is  eternal  ; 
He  is  good,  if  He  is  wise ;  He  is  just,  if  He  is  good." 
What  skill  can  so  arrange  these  propositions,  so  add 
to  them,  so  combine  them,  that  they  may  be  able,  by 
the  force  of  their  juxta-position,  to  follow  one  from 
the  other,  and  become  one  and  the  same  by  an  inevi- 
table correlation?  That  is  not  the  method  by  which 
the  argument  becomes  a  demonstration.  Such  a  me- 
thod, used  by  a  Theist  in  controversy  against  men 
who  are  unprepared  personally  for  the  question,  will 
but  issue  in  his  retreat  along  a  series  of  major  propo- 

*  Serm.  xi.  init. 


302  Inference, 

sitions,  farther  and  farther  back,  till  he  and  they  find 
themselves  in  a  land  of  shadows,  ''  where  the  light  is 
as  darkness." 

To  feel  the  true  force  of  an  argument  like  this,  we 
must  not  confine  ourselves  to  abstractions,  and  merely 
compare  notion  with  notion,  but  w^e  must  contemplate 
the  God  of  our  conscience  as  a  Living  Being,  as  one 
Object  and  Reality,  under  the  aspect  of  this  or  that 
attribute.    We  must  patiently  rest  in  the  thought  of  the 
Eternal,  Omnipresent,  and  All-knowing,  rather  than 
of  Eternity,  Omnipresence,  and   Omniscience;    and 
we  must  not  hurry  on  and  force  a  series  of  deductions, 
wdiich,  if  they  are  to  be  realized,  must  distil  like  dew 
into  our  minds,  and  form  themselves  spontaneously 
there,  by  a  calm  contemplation  and  gradual  under- 
standing of  their   premisses.      Ordinarily  speaking, 
such  deductions  do  not  flow  forth,  except  according 
as  the  Image,  presented  to  us  through  conscience,  on 
which  they  depend,  is  cherished  within  us  with  the 
sentiments  which,  supposing  it  be,  as  we  know  it  is, 
the  truth,  it  necessarily  claims  of  us,  and  is  seen  re- 
flected, by  the  habit  of  our  intellect,  in  the  appoint- 
ments and  the  events  of  the  external  world.     And,  in 
their  manifestation  to  our  inward  sense,  they  are  an- 
alogous to  the  knowledge  which  we  at  length  attain 
of  the  details  of  a  landscape,  after  we  have  selected 
the  right  stand-point,  and  have  learned  to  accommo- 
date the  pupil  of  our  eye  to  the  varying  focus  neces- 
sary for  seeing  them,  have  accustomed  it  to  the  glare 
of  light,  have  mentally  grouped  or  discriminated  Hues 
and  shadows  and  given  them  their  due  meaning,  and 
have  mastered  the  perspective  of  the  whole.     Or  they 
may  be  compared  to  a  landscape  as  drawn  by  the 


Informal  Inference.  303 

pencil  (unless  the  illustration  seem  forced),  in  which 
by  the  skill  of  the  artist,  amid  the  bold  outlines  of 
trees  and  rocks,  when  the  eye  has  learned  to  take  in 
their  reverse  aspects,  the  forms  or  faces  of  historical 
personages  are  discernible,  which  we  catch  and  lose 
again,  and  then  recover,  and  which  some  who  look 
on  with  us  are  never  able  to  catch  at  all. 

Analogous  to  such  an  exercise  of  sight,  must  be 
our  mode  of  dealing  with  the  verbal  expositions  of 
an  argument  such  as  Clarke's.  His  words  speak  to 
those  who  understand  the  speech.  To  the  mere  bar- 
ren intellect  they  are  but  the  pale  ghosts  of  notions ; 
but  the  trained  imagination  sees  in  them  the  repre- 
sentations of  things.  He  who  has  once  detected  in 
his  conscience  the  outline  of  a  Lawgiver  and  Judge, 
needs  no  definition  of  Him,  whom  he  dimly  but  sure- 
ly contemplates  there,  and  he  rejects  the  mechanism 
of  logic,  which  cannot  contain  in  its  grasp  matters  so 
real  and  so  recondite.  Such  a  one,  according  to  the 
strength  and  perspicacity  of  his  mind,  the  force  of 
his  presentiments,  and  his  power  of  sustained  atten^ 
tion,  is  able  to  pronounce  about  the  great  Sight  which 
encompasses  him,  as  about  some  visible  object;  and, 
in  his  investigation  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  is  not 
inferring  abstraction  from  abstraction,  but  noting 
down  the  aspects  and  phases  of  that  one  thing  on 
which  he  ever  is  gazing.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  limit 
the  depth  of  meaning,  which  at  length  he  will  attach 
to  words,  which  to  the  many  are  but  definitions  and 
ideas. 

Here  then  again,  as  in  the  other  instances,  it  seems 
clear,  that  methodical  processes  of  inference,  useful  as 
they  are,  as  far  as  they  go,  are  only  instruments  of 


304  hiference, 

the  mind,  and  need,  in  order  to  their  due  exercise, 
that  real  ratiocination  and  present  imagination  which 
gives  them  a  sense  beyond  their  letter,  and  which, 
while  acting  through  them,  reaches  to  conclusions 
beyond  and  above  them.  Such  a  living  organoii  is  a 
personal  gift,  and  not  a  mere  method  or  calculus. 

3. 
That  there  are  cases,  in  which  evidence,  not  suffi- 
cient for  a  formal  proof,  is  nevertheless  sufficient  for 
assent  and  certitude,  is  the  doctrine  of  Locke,  as  of 
most  men.  He  tells  us  that  belief,  grounded  on 
sufficient  probabilities,  ''rises  to  assurance;"  and  as 
to  the  question  of  sufficiency,  that  where  propositions 
''  border  near  on  certainty,"  then  "we  assent  to  them  as 
firmly  as  if  they  were  infallibly  demonstrated."  The 
only  question  is,  w^hat  these  propositions  are :  this  he 
does  not  tell  us,  but  he  seems  to  think  that  they  are  few 
in  number,  and  will  be  without  any  trouble  recog- 
nized at  once  by  common-sense ;  whereas,  unless  I  am 
mistaken,  they  are  to  be  found  throughout  the  range 
of  concrete  matter,  and  that  extra-logical  judgment, 
which  is  the  w^arrant  for  our  certitude  about  them,  is 
not  common-sense  alone,  but  sometimes  a  special 
sense,  demanding  special  qualifications ;  or,  again, 
some  other  intellectual  sense,  though  still  distinct 
from  the  mere  apprehension  of  a  scientific  argument. 
It  is  often  called  the  ''judicium  prudentis  viri,"  a 
standard  of  certitude  which  holds. good  in  all  con- 
crete matter,  not  only  in  cases  of  practice  and  duty, 
in  which  we  are  more  familiar  with  it,  but  in  ques- 
tions of  truth  and  falsehood  generally,  or  in  what  are 
called  "  speculative"  questions,  and  that,  not  indeed  to 


Informal  Inference.  305 

the  exclusion,  but  as  the  supplement  of  logic.  Thus 
a  proof,  except  in  abstract  demonstration,  has  always 
in  it,  more  or  less,  an  element  of  the  personal,  because 
"  prudence  "  is  not  a  constituent  part  of  our  nature, 
but  a  personal  endowment. 

And  the  language  in  common  use,  when  concrete 
conclusions  are  in  question,  implies  the  presence  of 
this  personal  element  in  the  proof  of  them.  We  are 
considered  to  feel,  rather  than  to  see,  its  cogency ; 
and  we  decide,  not  that  the  conclusion  must  be,  but 
that  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  We  say  that  we  do  not 
see  our  way  to  doubt  it,  that  it  is  impossible  to  doubt, 
that  we  are  bound  to  believe  it,  that  we  should  be 
idiots,  if  v/e  did  not  believe.  We  never  should  say, 
in  abstract  science,  that  we  could  not  escape  the  con- 
clusion that  25  was  a  mean  proportional  between  5 
and  125  ;  or  that  a  man  had  no  right  to  say  that  a  tan- 
gent to  a  circle  at  the  extremity  of  the  radius  makes  an 
acute  angle  with  it.  Yet,  though  our  certitude  of  the 
fact  is  quite  as  clear,  we  should  not  think  it  unnatural 
to  say  that  the  insularity  of  Great  Britain  is  as  good 
as  demonstrated,  or  that  none  but  a  fool  expects 
never  to  die.  Phrases  indeed  such  as  these  are  some- 
times used  to  express  a  shade  of  doubt,  but  it  is 
enough  for  my  purpose  if  they  are  also  used  when 
doubt  is  altogether  absent.  What,  then,  they  signify, 
is,  what  I  have  so  much  insisted  on,  that  we  have 
arrived  at  our  conclusions — not  ex  opej-e  operato,  by  a 
scientific  necessity  independent  of  ourselves, — but  by 
the  action  of  our  own  minds,  by  our  own  individual 
perception  of  the  truth  in  question,  under  a  sense  of 
duty  to  those  conclusions  and  with  an  intellectual 
conscientiousness. 


3o6  Inference, 

This  certitude  and  this  evidence  are  often  called 
moral ;  a  word  v/hich  I  avoid,  as  having  a  very  vague 
meaning;  but  using  it  here  for  once,  I  observe  that 
moral  evidence  and  moral  certitude  are  all  that  we 
can  attain,  not  only  in  the  case  of  ethical  and  spiritual 
subjects,  such  as  religion,  but  of  terrestrial  and  cos- 
mical  questions  also.  So  far,  physical  Astronomy 
and  Revelation  stand  on  the  same  footing.  Vince,  in 
his  treatise  on  Astronomy,  does  but  use  the  language 
of  philosophical  sobriety,  when,  after  speaking  of  the 
proofs  of  the  earth's  rotatory  motion,  he  says,  "■  When 
these  reasons,  all  upon  different  principles,  are  consid- 
ered, they  amount  to  a  proof  of  the  earth's  rotation 
about  its  axis,  which  is  as  satisfactory  to  the  mind  as 
the  most  direct  demonstration  could  be ;"  or,  as  he 
had  said  just  before,  ''  the  mind  rests  equally  satisfied, 
as  if  the  matter  was  strictly  proved."  "^  That  is,  first 
there  is  no  demonstration  on  the  point ;  next,  there  is 
a  cluster  of  "  reasons  on  different  principles,"  that  is, 
independent  probabilities  in  cumulation ;  thirdly, 
these  '^ avioiLut  to  a  proof,"  and  ''  the  mind  "  feels  '■''as 
if  the  matter  was  strictly  proved,"  that  is,  there  is 
the  equivalent  of  proof;  lastly,  "  the  mind  rests  satis- 
fied'' that  is,  it  is  certain  on  the  point.  And  though 
evidence  of  the  fact  is  now  obtained  which  was  not 
known  fifty  years  ago,  that  evidence  on  the  whole  has 
not  changed  its  character. 

Compare  with  this  avowal  the  language  of  Butler, 
when  discussing  the  proof  of  Revelation.  ''  Probable 
proofs,"  he  says,  "  by  being  added,  not  only  increase 
the  evidence,  but  multiply  it.     The  truth  of  our  reli- 

*  Pp.  84,  85. 


Informal  Inference,  3o7 

gion,  like  the  truth  of  common  matters,  is  to  be  judged 
by  the  Avhole  evidence  taken  together  ...  in  like 
manner  as,  if  in  any  common  case  numerous  events 
acknowledged  were  to  be  alleged  in  proof  of  any 
other  event  disputed,  the  truth  of  the  disputed  event 
would  be  proved,  not  only  if  any  one  of  the  acknow- 
ledged ones  did  of  itself  clearly  imply  it,  but  though 
no  one  of  them  singly  did  so,  if  the  whole  of  the 
acknowledged  events  taken  together  could  not  in 
reason  be  supposed  to  have  happened,  unless  the 
disputed  one  were  true."  *  Here,  as  in  Astronomy, 
is  the  same  absence  of  demonstration  of  the  thesis, 
the  same  cumulating  and  converging  indications  of 
it,  the  same  indirectness  in  the  proof,  as  being  per 
inipossibile,  the  same  recognition  that  the  conclusion 
is  not  only  probable,  but  true.  One  other  character- 
istic of  the  argumentative  process  is  given,  which  is 
unnecessary  in  a  subject-matter  so  clear  and  simple 
as  astronomical  science,  viz.  the  moral  state  of  the 
parties  inquiring  or  disputing.  They  must  be  "  as 
much  in  earnest  about  religion,  as  about  their  tem- 
poral affairs,  capable  of  being  convinced,  on  real 
evidence,  that  there  is  a  God  who  governs  the  world, 
and  feel  themselves  to  be  of  a  moral  nature  and 
accountable  creatures."  f 

This  being  the  state  of  the  case,  the  question  arises, 
whether,  granting  that  the  personality  (so  to  speak) 
of  the  parties  reasoning  is  an  important  element  in 
proving  propositions  in  concrete  matter,  any  account 
can  be  given  of  the  ratiocinative   process  in  such 

*  "Analogy,"  pp.  329,  330,  ed.  1S36. 
t  Ibid.  p.  278. 


3o8  Infe7'e7ice, 

proofs,  corresponding  to  that  analysis  into  syllogism 
which  is  the  characteristic  of  logical  argumentation. 
I  think  there  can ;  though  I  fear,  lest  to  some  minds 
it  may  appear  far-fetched  or  fanciful ;  however,  I  will 
hazard  this  imputation.  I  consider,  then,  that  the 
principle  of  concrete  reasoning  is  parallel  to  the 
method  of  proof  which  is  the  foundation  of  modern 
mathematical  science,  as  contained  in  the  celebrated 
lemma  with  which  Newton  opens  his  "  Principia." 
We  know  that  a  regular  polygon,  inscribed  in  a  circle, 
its  sides  being  continually  diminished,  tends  to  be- 
come that  circle,  as  its  limit ;  but  it  vanishes  before 
it  has  coincided  with  the  circle,  so  that  its  tendency 
to  be  the  circle,  though  ever  nearer  fulfilment,  never 
in  fact  gets  beyond  a  tendency.  In  like  manner,  the 
conclusion  in  a  real  or  concrete  proposition  is  fore- 
seen and  predicted  rather  than  actually  attained ; 
foreseen  in  the  number  and  direction  of  accumulated 
premisses,  which  all  converge  to  it,  and  approach  it, 
as  the  result  of  their  combination,  more  nearly  than 
any  assignable  difference,  yet  do  not  touch  it  logi- 
cally (though  only  not  touching  it),  on  account  of 
the  nature  of  its  subject-matter,  and  the  delicate  and 
implicit  character  of  at  least  part  of  the  reasonings 
on  which  it  depends.  It  is  by  the  strength,  variety, 
or  multiplicity  of  premisses,  which  are  only  probable, 
not  by  well-connected  syllogisms,  —  by  objections 
overcome,  by  adverse  theories  neutralized,  by  diffi- 
culties gradually  clearing  up,  by  exceptions  proving 
the  rule,  by  unlooked-for  correlations  found  for  re- 
ceived truths,  by  suspense  and  delay  in  the  process 
issuing  in  triumphant  re-actions, — by  all  these  ways, 
and  many  others,  the  practised  and  experienced  mind 


Informal  Inference.  309 

is  able  to  make  a  sure  divination  that  a  conclusion  is 
inevitable,  of  which  his  lines  of  reasoning  do  not 
actually  put  him  in  possession.  This  is  what  is  meant 
by  a  proposition  being  ''  as  good  as  proved,"  a  con- 
clusion as  undeniable  ''  as  if  it  were  proved,"  and  the 
reasons  for  it  ''  amounting  to  a  proof,"  for  a  proof  is 
the  limit  of  probabilities. 

It  may  be  added,  that,  whereas  the  logical  form  of 
this  argument,  is,  as  I  have  already  observed,  indirect, 
viz.  that  ''  the  conclusion  cannot  be  otherwise,"  and 
Butler  says  that  an  event  is  proved,  if  its  antecedents 
"  could  not  in  reason  be  supposed  to  have  happened 
tinless  it  were  true,"  and  law-books  tell  us  that  the 
principle  of  circumstantial  evidence  is  the  rediictio  ad 
absurdiun,  so  Newton  is  forced  to  the  same  mode  of 
proof  for  the  establishment  of  his  lemma,  about  prime 
and  ultimate  ratios.  If  you  deny  that  they  become 
ultimately  equal,"  he  says,  ''  let  them  be  ultimately 
unequal ;  "  and  the  consequence  follows,  "  which  is 
against  the  supposition." 

Such  being  the  character  of  the  mental  process  in 
concrete  reasoning,  I  should  wish  to  adduce  some  good 
instances  of  it  in  illustration,  instances  in  which  the 
person  reasoning  confesses  that  he  is  reasoning  on 
this  very  process,  as  I  have  been  stating  it ;  but  these 
are  difficult  to  find,  from  the  very  circumstance  that 
the  process  from  first  to  last  is  carried  on  as  much 
without  words  as  with  them.  However,  I  will  set 
down  three  such. 

I.  First,    an    instance    in    physics.     Wood,    treat- 
ing of  the  laws  of  motion,  thus  describes  the  line  of 
reasoning  by  which  the  mind  is  certified  of  them 
"  They  are  not  indeed  self-evident,  nor  do  they  ad 


3 1  o  Inference. 

mit  of  accurate  proof  by  experiment,  on  account  of 
the  effects  of  friction  and  the  air's  resistance,  which 
cannot  entirely  be  removed.  They  are,  however, 
constantly  and  invariably  suggested  to  our  senses, 
and  they  agree  with  experiment,  as  far  as  experiment 
can  go  ;  and  the  more  accurately  the  experiments 
are  made,  and  the  greater  care  we  take  to  remove  ail 
those  impediments  which  tend  to  render  the  conclu- 
sions erroneous,  the  more  nearly  do  the  experiments 
coincide  with  these  laws. 

"  Their  truth  is  also  established  upon  a  different 
ground  :  from  these  general  principles  innumerable 
particular  conclusions  have  been  deducted  ;  some 
times  the  deductions  are  simple  and  immediate, 
sometimes  they  are  made  by  tedious  and  intricate 
operations ;  yet  they  are  all,  without  exception,  con- 
sistent with  each  other  and  with  experiment.  It 
follows  thereby,  that  the  principles  upon  which  the 
calculations  are  founded  are  true."^^ 

The  reasoning  of  this  passage  (in  which  the  uni- 
formity of  the  laws  of  nature  is  assumed)  seems  to 
me  a  good  illustration  of  what  must  be  considered 
the  principle  or  form  of  an  induction.  The  conclu- 
sion, which  is  its  scope,  is,  by  its  own  confession,  not 
proved  ;  but  it  ought  to  be  proved,  or  is  as  good  as 
proved,  and  a  man  would  be  irrational  who  did  not 
take  it  to  be  virtually  proved ;  first,  because  the 
imperfections  in  the  proof  arise  out  of  its  subject- 
matter  and  the  nature  of  the  case,  so  that  it  is  proved 
interpretative ;  and  next,  because  in  the  same  degree 
in  which  these  faidts  in  the  subject-matter  are  over- 

*  "  Mechanics,"  p.  31. 


Informal  Inference.  3 1 1 

come  here  or  there,  are  the  hivolved  imperfections 
here  or  there  of  the  proof  remedied;  and  further, 
because,  when  the  conclusion  is  assumed  as  an  hypo- 
thesis, it  throws  light  upon  a  multitude  of  collateral 
facts,  accounting  for  them,  and  uniting  them  together 
in  one  whole.  Consistency  is  not  always  the  guar- 
antee of  truth ;  but  there  may  be  a  consistency  in  a 
theory  so  variously  tried  and  exemplified  as  to  lead 
to  belief  in  it,  as  reasonably  as  a  witness  in  a  court 
of  law  may,  after  a  severe  cross-examination,  satisfy 
and  assure  judge,  jury,  and  the  whole  court,  of  his 
simple  veracity. 

2.  And  from  the  courts  of  law  shall  my  second 
illustration  be  taken. 

A  learned  writer  says,  ''  In  criminal  prosecutions, 
the  circumstantial  evidence  should  be  such  as  to  pro- 
duce nearly  the  same  degree  of  certainty  as  that  which 
arises  from  direct  testimony,  and  to  exclude  a  rational 
probability  of  innocence."  "  By  degrees  of  certainty 
he  seems  to  mean,  together  with  many  other  writers, 
degrees  of  proof,  or  approximations  towards  proof, 
and  not  certitude,  as  a  state  of  mind ;  and  he  says 
that  no  one  should  be  pronounced  guilty  on  evidence 
which  is  not  equivalent  in  weight  to  direct  testimony. 
So  far  is  clear;  but  what  is  meant  by  the  expression 
^'■rational  probability"?  for  there  can  be  no  proba- 
bility but  Avhat  is  rational.  I  consider  that  the  ''  ex- 
clusion of  a  rational  probability  "  means  ''  the  exclu- 
sion of  any  argument  in  the  man's  favor  which  has 
a  rational  claim  to  be  called  probable,"  or  rather, 
"  the  rational  exclusion  of  any  supposition  that  he  is 

*  Phillipps'  "  Law  of  Evidence,"  vol.  i.,  p.  456. 


3  ^  2  Inference, 

innocent ;  "  and  ''  rational "  is  used  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  argumentative,  and  means  ''resting  on  im- 
plicit reasons,"  such  as  we  feel,  indeed,  but  which,  for 
some  cause  or  other,  because  they  are  too  subtle  or 
too  circuitous,  we  cannot  put  into  words  so  as  to 
satisfy  logic.  If  this  is  a  correct  account  of  his  mean- 
ing, he  says  that  the  evidence  against  a  criminal,  in 
order  to  be  decisive  of  his  guilt,  to  the  satisfaction 
of  our  conscience,  must  bear  with  it,  along  with  the 
palpable  arguments  for  that  guilt,  such  a  reasonable- 
ness, or  body  of  implicit  reasons  for  it  in  addition,  as 
may  exclude  any  probability,  really  such,  that  he  is 
not  guilty, — that  is,  it  must  be  an  evidence  free  from 
any  thing  obscure,  suspicious,  unnatural,  or  defec- 
tive, such  as  (in  the  judgment  of  a  prudent  man)  to 
hinder  that  summation  or  coalescence  of  the  evidence 
into  a  proof,  which  I  have  compared  to  the  running 
into  a  limit,  in  the  case  of  mathematical  ratios.  Just 
as  an  algebraical  series  may  be  of  a  nature  never  to 
terminate  or  admit  of  valuation,  as  being  the  equiva- 
lent of  an  irrational  quantity  or  surd,  so  there  may 
be  some  grave  imperfections  in  a  body  of  reasons, 
expHcit  or  impHcit,  which  is  directed  to  a  proof, 
sufficient  to  interfere  with  its  successful  issue  or 
resolution,  and  to  balk  us  with  an  irrational,  that  is, 
an  indeterminate,  conclusion. 

So  much  as  to  the  principle  of  conclusions  made 
upon  evidence  in  criminal  cases;  now  let  us  turn  to 
an  instance  of  its  application  in  a  particular  instance. 
Some  years  ago  there  was  a  murder  committed,  which 
unusually  agitated  the  popular  mind,  and  the  evidence 
against  the  culprit  was  necessarily  circumstantial. 
At  the  trial  the  Judge,  in  addressing  the  Jury,  in- 


Formal  Inference.  313 

structed  them  on  the  kind  of  evidence  necessary  for 
a  verdict  of  guilty.  Of  course  he  could  not  mean  to 
say  that  they  must  convict  a  man,  of  whose  guilt 
they  were  not  certain,  especially  in  a  case  in  which 
two  foreign  countries,  Germany  and  the  American 
States,  were  attentively  looking  on.  If  the  Jury  had 
any  doubt,  that  is,  reasonable  doubt,  about  the  man's 
guilt,  of  course  they  would  give  him  the  benefit  of 
that  doubt.  Nor  could  the  certitude,  which  would 
be  necessary  for  an  adverse  verdict,  be  merely  that 
which  is  sometimes  called  a  "  practical  certitude," 
that  is,  a  certitude  indeed,  but  a  certitude  that  it  was 
a  ''  duty,"  ''expedient,"  ''  safe,"  to  bring  in  a  verdict 
of  guilty.  Of  course  the  Judge  spoke  of  what  is 
called  a  ''  speculative  certitude,"  that  is,  a  certitude 
of  the  fact  that  the  man  was  guilty ;  the  onl}^  ques- 
tion being,  what  evidence  was  sufficient  for  the  proof, 
for  the  certitude  of  that  fact.  This  is  what  the  Judge 
meant ;  and  these  are  among  the  remarks  which,  with 
this  drift,  he  made  upon  the  occasion : 

After  observing  that  by  circumstantial  evidence  he 
meant  a  case  in  which  ''  the  facts  do  not  directly 
prove  the  actual  crime,  but  lead  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  prisoner  committed  that  crime,"  he  went  on 
to  disclaim  the  suggestion,  made  by  counsel  in  the 
case,  that  the  Jury  could  not  pronounce  a  verdict  of 
guilty,  unless  they  were  as  much  satisfied  that  the 
prisoner  did  the  deed  as  if  they  had  seen  him  com- 
mit it.  "  That  is  not  the  certainty,"  he  said,  ''  which 
is  required  of  you  to  discharge  your  duty  to  the  pris- 
oner, whose  safety  is  in  your  hands."  Then  he  stated 
what  was  the  ''  degree  of  certainty,"  that  is,  of  cer- 
tainty or  perfection  of  proof,  which  was  necessary  to 


3 1 4  Infere7tce. 

the  question,  ''  involving-  as  it  did  the  life  of  the  pris- 
oner at  the  bar," — it  was  such  as  that  ''  with  which," 
he  said,  '*you  decide  upon  and  conclude  your  own 
most  important  transactions  in  life.  Take  the  facts 
which  are  proved  before  3^ou,  separate  those  3-ou  be- 
lieve from  those  which  you  do  not  believe,  and  all 
the  conclusions  that  naturally  and  almost  necessarily 
result  from  those  facts,  you  may  confide  in  as  much 
as  in  the  facts  themselves.  The  case  on  the  part  of 
the  prosecution  is  the  story  of  the  murder,  told  by  the 
different  witnesses,  who  unfold  the  circtnnstances  one 
after  another,  according  to  their  occurrence,  together 
Avith  the  gradual  discovery  of  some  apparent  con- 
nexion between  the  property  that  was  lost,  and  the 
possession  of  it  by  the  prisoner." 

Now  here  I  observe,  that  vvhereas  the  conclusion 
which  is  contemplated  by  the  Judge,  is  what  may  be 
pronounced  (on  the  whole,  and  considering  all  things 
and  judging  reasonably)  a  proved  or  certain  conclu- 
sion, that  is,  a  conclusion  of  the  truth  of  the  allega- 
tion against  the  prisoner,  or  of  the  fact  of  his  guilt, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  viotiva  constituting  this  rea- 
sonable, rational  proof,  and  this  satisfactory  certitude, 
needed  not,  according  to  him,  to  be  stronger  than 
those  on  which  we  prudently  act  on  matters  of  im- 
portant interest  to  ourselves,  that  is,  probable  reasons 
viewed  in  their  convergence  and  combination.  And 
whereas  the  certitude  is  viewed  by  the  Judge  as 
following"  on  converging  probabilities,  which  consti- 
tute a  real,  though  only  a  reasonable,  not  an  argu- 
mentative, proof,  so  it  will  be  observed  in  this  parti- 
cular instance,  that,  in  illustration  of  the  general 
doctrine,  the  process  is  one  of  ''line  upon  line,  and 


Informal  Inference,  315 

letter  upon  letter,"  of  various  details  accumulating 
and  of  deductions  fitting  in  to  each  other ;  for,  in  the 
Judge's  words,  there  was  a  story — and  that  not  told 
right  out  and  by  one  witness,  but  taken  up  and  hand- 
ed on  from  witness  to  witness — gradually  unfolded, 
and  tending  to  a  proof,  which  of  course  might  have 
been  ten  times  stronger  than  it  was,  but  was  still  a 
proof  for  all  that,  and  sufficient  for  its  conclusion, — 
just  as  we  see  that  two  straight  lines  are  meeting, 
and  are  certain  they  will  meet  at  a  given  distance, 
though  we  do  not  actually  see  the  junction. 

3.  The  third  instance  I  will  take  is  one  of  a  literary 
character,  the  divination  of  the  avithorship  of  a  cer- 
tain anonymous  publication,  as  suggested  mainly  by 
internal  evidence,  as  I  found  it  in  a  critique  written 
some  twenty  years  ago.  In  the  extract  which  I  make 
from  it,  we  may  observe  the  same  steady  march  of  a 
proof  towards  a  conclusion,  which  is  (as  it  were)  out 
of  sight ; — a  reckoning,  or  a  reasonable  judgment, 
that  it  reall}^  is  proved,  and  a  personal  certitude  upon 
that  judgment,  joined  with  a  confession  that  a  logical 
argument  could  not  well  be  made  out  for  it,  and  that 
the  various  details  in  which  the  proof  consisted  Avere 
in  no  small  measure  implicit  and  impalpable. 

'*  Rumor  speaks  uniformly  and  clearly  enough  in 
attributing  it  to  the  pen  of  a  particular  individual. 
Nor,  although  a  cursory  reader  might  well  skim  the 
book  without  finding  in  it  any  thing  to  suggest,  etc., 
.  .  .  will  it  appear  improbable  to  the  more  attentive 
student  of  its  internal  evidence  ;  and  the  improbabi- 
lity will  decrease  more  and  more,  in  proportion  as 
the  reader  is  capable  of  judging  and  appreciating  the 
delicate,  and  at  first  invisible  touches,  which  limit,  to 


3 1 6  Inference, 

those  ivho  understand  tJiem^  the  individuals  who  can 
have  written  it  to  a  very  small  number  indeed.  The 
utmost  scepticism  as  to  its  authorship  (which  we  do 
not  feel  ourselves)  cannot  remove  it  farther  from  him 
than  to  that  of  some  one  among  his  most  intimate 
friends  ;  so  that,  leaving  others  to  discuss  antecedent 
probabilities,"  etc. 

Here  is  a  writer  who  professes  to  have  no  doubt  at 
all  about  the  authorship  of  a  book, — which  at  the  same 
time  he  cannot  prove  by  mere  argumentation  set  down 
in  Avords.  The  reasons  of  his  conviction  are  too  deli- 
cate, too  intricate  ;  nay,  they  are  in  part  invisible  ; 
invisible,  except  to  those  who  from  circumstances 
have  an  intellectual  perception  of  what  does  not  ap- 
pear to  the  many.  They  are  personal  to  the  indivi- 
dual. This  again  is  an  instance,  distinctly  set  before 
us,  of  the  particular  mode  in  which  the  mind  pro- 
gresses in  concrete  matter,  viz.  from  merely  probable 
antecedents  to  the  sufficient  proof  of  a  fact  or  a 
truth,  and,  after  the  proof,  to  an  act  of  certitude 
about  it. 

I  trust  the  foregoing  remarks  may  not  deserve  the 
blame  of  a  needless  refinement.  I  have  thought  it 
incumbent  on  me  to  illustrate  the  intellectual  process 
by  which  we  pass  from  conditional  inference  to  un- 
conditional assent ;  and  I  have  had  only  the  alterna- 
tive of  lying  under  the  imputation  of  a  paradox  or  of 
a  subtlety. 


Natural  Inference.  317 


§  3.  Natural  Inference. 

I  COMMENCED  my  remarks  upon  Inference  by  say- 
ing that  reasoning  ordinarily  shows  as  a  simple  act, 
not  as  a  process,  as  if  there  were  no  medium  inter- 
posed between  antecedent  and  consequent,  and  the 
transition  from  one  to  the  other  were  of  the  nature  of 
an  instinct, — that  is,  the  process  is  altogether  uncon- 
scious and  implicit.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  take 
some  notice  of  this  natural  or  material  Inference,  as 
an  existing  phenomenon  of  mind  ;  and  that  the  more, 
because  it  illustrates  and,  as  far  as  it  goes,  supports 
what  I  have  been  saying  of  the  characteristics  of 
inferential  processes  as  carried  on  in  concrete  matter, 
and  especially  of  their  dependence  upon  some  parti- 
cular faculty  v^^hich  has  the  oversight  of  them. 

I  say,  then,  that  our  most  natural  mode  of  reason- 
ing is,  not  from  propositions  to  propositions,  but  from 
things  to  things,  from  concrete  to  concrete,  from 
wholes  to  wholes.  Whether  the  consequents,  at 
which  we  arrive  from  the  antecedents  with  which  we 
start,  lead  us  to  assent  or  only  towards  assent,  those 
antecedents  commonly  are  not  recognized  by  us  as 
subjects  for  analysis  ;  nay,  often  are  only  indirectly 
recognized  as  antecedents  at  all.  Not  only  is  the 
inference  with  its  process  ignored,  but  the  antecedent 


3 1 8  hifei^ence. 

also.  To  the  mind  itself  the  reasoning  is  a  simple 
divination  or  prediction  ;  as  it  literally  is  in  the  in- 
stance of  enthusiasts,  who  mistake  their  own  thoughts 
for  inspirations. 

This  is  the  mode  in  which  we  ordinarily  reason, 
dealing  with  things  directly,  and  as  they  stand,  one 
by  one,  in  the  concrete,  with  an  intrinsic  and  per- 
sonal power,  not  a  conscious  adoption  of  an  artificial 
instrument  or  expedient ;  and  it  is  especially  exem- 
plified both  in  uneducated  men,  and  in  men  of  genius, 
— in  those  who  know  nothing  of  intellectual  aids  and 
rules,  and  in  those  who  care  nothing  for  them, — in 
those  who  are  either  without  or  above  mental  disci- 
pline. As  true  poetry  is  a  spontaneous  outpouring  of 
thought,  and  therefore  belongs  to  rude  as  well  as  to 
gifted  minds,  whereas  no  one  becomes  a  poet  merely 
by  the  canons  of  criticism,  so  this  unscientific  reason- 
ing, being  sometimes  a  natural,  uncultivated  faculty, 
sometimes  approaching  to  a  gift,  sometimes  an  ac- 
quired habit  and  second  nature,  has  a  higher  source 
than  logical  rule, — "  nascitur,  non  fit."  When  it  is 
characterized  by  precision,  subtlety,  promptitude, 
and  truth,  it  is  of  course  a  gift  and  a  rarity :  in 
ordinary  minds  it  is  biassed  and  degraded  by  pre- 
judice, passion,  and  self-interest ;  but  still,  after  all, 
this  divination  comes  by  nature,  and  belongs  to  all  of 
us  in  a  measure,  to  women  more  than  to  men,  hitting 
or  missing,  as  the  case  may  be,  but  with  a  success  on 
the  whole  sufficient  to  show  that  there  is  a  method  in 
it,  though  it  be  implicit. 

A  peasant  who  is  weather-wise  may  be  simply 
unable  to  assign  intelligible  reasons  why  he  thinks  it 
will  be  fine  to-morrow  ;  and  if  he  attempts  to  do  so, 


Natural  Inference,  3 1 9 

he  may  give  reasons  wide  of  the  mark  ;  but  that  will 
not  weaken  his  own  confidence  in  his  prediction. 
His  mind  does  not  proceed  step  by  step,  but  he  feels 
all  at  once  the  force  of  various  combined  phenomena, 
though  he  is  not  conscious  of  them.  Again,  there 
are  physicians  who  excel  in  the  diagnosis  of  com- 
plaints ;  though  it  does  not  follow  from  this,  that 
they  could  defend  their  decision  in  a  particular  case 
against  a  brother  physician  who  disputed  it.  They 
are  guided  by  natural  acuteness  and  varied  experi- 
ence ;  ,.they  have  their  own  idiosyncratic  modes  of 
obsei^dng,  generalizing,  and  concluding ;  when  ques- 
tioned, they  can  but  rest  on  "their  own  authority,  or 
appeal  to  the  future  event.  In  a  popular  novel,"  a 
lawyer  is  introduced,  who  "  would  know,  almost  by 
instinct,  whether  an  accused  person  was  or  was  not 
guilty  ;  and  he  had  already  perceived  by  instinct " 
that  the  heroine  was  guilty.  ''  I've  no  doubt  she's  a 
clever  woman,"  he  said,  and  at  once  named  an  attor- 
ney practising  at  the  Old  Bailey.  So,  again,  experts 
and  detectives,  when  employed  to  investigate  myste- 
ries, in  cases  whether  of  the  civil  or  criminal  law,  dis- 
cern and  follow  out  indications  which  promise  solution 
with  a  sagacity  incomprehensible  to  ordinary  men. 
A  parallel  gift  is  the  intuitive  perception  of  character 
possessed  by  certain  men,  while  others  are  as  desti- 
tute of  it,  as  others  again  are  of  an  ear  for  music. 
What  common  measure  is  there  between  the  judg- 
ments of  those  who  have  this  intuition,  and  those  who 
have  not?  What  but  the  event  can  settle  any  differ- 
ence of  opinion  with  which  they  regard  a  third  per- 

*  "Orley  Farm." 


320  Inference. 

son  ?  These  are  instances  of  a  natural  capacity,  or  of 
nature  improved  by  practice  and  habit,  enabling  the 
mind  to  pass  promptly  from  one  set  of  facts  to 
another,  not  only,  I  say,  without  conscious  media, 
but  without  conscious  antecedents. 

Sometimes,  I  say,  this  illative  faculty  is  nothing 
short  of  genius.  Such  seems  to  have  been  New- 
ton's perception  of  truths  mathematical  and  physical, 
though  proof  was  absent.  At  least  that  is  the  impres- 
sion left  on  my  own  mind  by  various  stories  which 
are  told  of  him,  one  of  which  was  stated  in  the  public 
papers  a  few  years  ago.  **  Professor  Sylvester,"  it 
was  said,  "  has  just  discovered  the  proof  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton's  rule  for  ascertaining  the  imaginary  roots 
of  equations.  .  .  .  This  rule  has  been  a  Gordian-knot 
among  algebraists  for  the  last  century  and  a  half. 
The  proof  being  wanting,  authors  became  ashamed 
at  length  of  advancing  a  proposition,  the  evidence  for 
which  rested  on  no  other  foundation  than  belief  in 
Newton's  sagacity."  *^ 

Such  is  the  gift  of  the  calculating  boys  who  now 
and  then  make  their  appearance,  who  seem  to  have 
certain  short-cuts  to  conclusions,  which  they  cannot 
explain  to  themselves.  Some  are  said  to  have  been 
able  to  determine  off-hand  what  numbers  are  prime, — 
numbers,  I  think,  up  to  seven  places. 

In  a  very  different  subject-matter.  Napoleon  sup- 
plies us  with  an  instance  of  a  parallel  genius  in 
reasoning,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  look  at  things 
in  his  own  province,  and  to  interpret  them  truly, 
apparently  without  any    ratiocinative   media.     ''  By 

*  Guardian,  June  28,  1865. 


Nattiral  Inference,  321 

long  experience,"  says  Alison,  "joined  to  great 
natural  quickness  and  precision  of  eye,  he  had  ac- 
quired the  power  of  judging,  with  extraordinary 
accuracy,  both  of  the  amount  of  the  enemy's  force 
opposed  to  him  in  the  field,  and  of  the  probable 
result  of  the  movements,  even  the  most  complicated, 
going  forward  in  the  opposite  armies.  .  .  .  He  looked 
around  him  for  a  little  while  with  his  telescope,  and 
immediately  formed  a  clear  conception  of  the  posi- 
tion, forces,  and  intention  of  the  whole  hostile  array. 
In  this  way  he  could,  with  surprising  accuracy,  cal- 
culate in  a  few  minutes,  according  to  what  he  could 
see  of  their  formation  and  the  extent  of  the  ground 
which  they  occupied,  the  numerical  force  of  armies 
of  60,000  or  80,000  men ;  and  if  their  troops  were  at  all 
scattered,  he  knew  at  once  how  long  it  would  require 
for  them  to  concentrate,  and  how  many  hours  must 
elapse  before  they  could  make  their  attack."  '"' 

It  is  difficult  to  avoid  calling  such  clear  presenti- 
ments by  the  name  of  instinct ;  and  I  think  they  may 
so  be  called,  if  by  instinct  be  understood,  not  a  natu- 
ral sense,  one  and  the  same  in  all,  and  incapable  of 
cultivation,  but  a  perception  of  facts  without  assign- 
able media  of  perceiving.  There  are  those  who  can 
tell  at  once  what  is  conducive  or  injurious  to  their 
welfare,  who  are  their  friends,  who  their  enemies, 
what  is  to  happen  to  them,  and  how  they  are  to  meet 
it.  Presence  of  mind,  fathoming  of  motives,  talent 
for  repartee,  are  instances  of  this  gift.  As  to  that 
divination  of  personal  danger  which  is  found  in  the 
young  and  innocent,  we  find  a  description  of  it  in  one 

*  Histor)^  vol.  X.  pp.  286,  287. 


32  2  Infeixnce. 

of  Scott's  romances,  in  which  the  heroine,  "  without 
being  able  to  discover  what  was  wrong  either  in  the 
scenes  of  unusual  luxury  with  which  she  was  sur- 
rounded, or  in  the  manner  of  her  hostess,"  is  said 
nevertheless  to  have  felt ''  an  instinctive  apprehension 
that  all  was  not  right, — a  feeling  in  the  human  mind," 
the  author  proceeds  to  say,  "allied  perhaps  to  that 
sense  of  danger,  Avhich  animals  exhibit,  when  placed 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  natural  enemies  of  their  race, 
and  which  makes  birds  cower  when  the  hav/k  is  in 
the  air,  and  beasts  tremble  Avhen  the  tiger  is  abroad 
in  the  desert.""^ 

A  religious  biography,  lately  published,  affords  us 
an  instance  of  this  spontaneous  perception  of  truth  in 
the  province  of  revealed  doctrine.  "  Her  firm  faith," 
says  the  Author  of  the  Preface,  "was  so  vivid  in  its 
character,  that  it  was  almost  like  an  intuition  of  the 
entire  prospect  of  revealed  truth.  Let  an  error 
against  faith  be  concealed  under  expressions  however 
abstruse,  and  her  sure  instinct  found  it  out.  I  have 
tried  this  experiment  repeatedly.  She  might  not  be 
able  to  separate  the  heresy  by  analysis,  but  she  saw, 
and  felt,  and  suffered  from  its  presence."! 

And  so  of  the  great  fundamental  truths  of  religion, 
natural  and  revealed,  and  as  regards  the  mass  of  reli- 
gious men:  these  truths,  doubtless,  may  be  proved 
and  defended  by  an  array  of  invincible  logical  argu- 
ments, but  such  is  not  commonly  the  method  in  which 
they  make  their  way  into  our  minds.  The  grounds, 
on  which  we  hold  the  divine  origin  of  the  Church, 


Peveril  of  the  Peak." 

Life  of  Mother  Margaret  M.  Ilallahan,"  p.  vii. 


Nahcral  Inference.  323 

and  the  previous  truths  which  are  taught  us  by  na- 
ture— the  being  of  a  God,  and  the  immortality  of  the 
soul — are  felt  by  most  men  to  be  recondite  and  im- 
palpable, in  proportion  to  their  depth  and  reality.  As 
we  cannot  see  ourselves,  so  we  cannot  well  see  intel- 
lectual motives  which  are  so  intimately  ours,  and 
which  spring  up  from  the  very  constitution  of  our 
minds ;  and  while  we  refuse  to  admit  the  notion  that 
religion  has  not  irrefragable  arguments  in  its  behalf, 
still  the  attempts  to  argue,  in  the  case  of  an  indivi- 
dual Jiic  et  mine,  will  sometimes  only  confuse  his  ap- 
prehension of  sacred  objects,  and  subtracts  from  his 
devotion  quite  as  much  as  it  adds  to  his  knowledge. 

This  is  found  in  the  case  of  other  perceptions  be- 
sides that  of  faith.  It  is  the  case  of  nature  against 
art:  of  course,  if  possible,  nature  and  art  should  be 
combined,  but  sometimes  they  are  incompatible. 
Thus,  in  the  case  of  calculating  boys,  it  is  said,  I 
know  not  with  what  truth,  that  to  teach  them  the 
ordinary  rules  of  arithmetic  is  to  endanger  or  to  de- 
stroy the  extraordinary  endowment.  And  men  who 
have  the  gift  of  playing  on  an  instrument  by  ear,  are 
sometimes  afraid  to  learn  by  rule,  lest  they  should 
lose  it. 

There  is  an  analogy,  in  this  respect,  between  Ratio- 
cination and  Memory,  though  the  latter  may  be  exer- 
cised without  antecedents  or  media,  whereas  the  for- 
mer requires  them  in  its  very  idea.  At  the  same  time 
association  has  so  much  to  do  Avith  memory,  that  we 
may  not  unfairly  consider  that  memory,  as  well  as 
reasoning,  depends  on  certain  previous  conditions. 
Writing,  as  I  have  already  observed,  is  a  menioria 
technica,  or  logic  of  memory.     Now  it  will  be  found, 


324  Infe7^ence, 

I  think,  that,  indispensable  as  is  the  use  of  letters, 
still,  in  fact,  we  weaken  our  memory  in  proportion  as 
we  habituate  ourselves  to  commit  all  that  we  wish  to 
remember  to  memorandums.  Of  course,  in  propor- 
tion as  our  memory  is  weak  or  overburdened,  and 
thereb}^  treacherous,  we  cannot  help  ourselves ;  but 
in  the  case  of  men  of  strong  memory,  in  any  particu- 
lar subject-matter,  as  in  that  of  dates,  all  artificial  ex- 
pedients, from  the  ''  Thirty  days  has  September,"  etc., 
to  the  more  formidable  formulas  in  vise,  are  as  diffi- 
cult and  repulsive  as  the  natural  exercise  of  memory 
is  healthy  and  easy  to  them ;  just  as  the  clear-headed 
and  practical  reasoner,  who  sees  conclusions  at  a 
glance,  is  uncomfortable  under  the  drill  of  a  logician, 
being  oppressed  and  hampered,  as  David  in  Saul's 
armor,  by  what  is  intended  to  be  a  benefit. 

I  need  not  say  more  on  this  part  of  the  subject. 
What  is  called  reasoning  is  often  only  a  peculiar  and 
personal  mode  of  abstraction,  and  so  far,  like  memory, 
may  be  said  to  exist  without  antecedents.  It  is  a 
power  of  looking  at  things  in  some  particular  aspect, 
and  of  determining  their  internal  and  external  rela- 
tions thereby.  And  according  to  the  subtlety  and 
versatility  of  their  gift,  are  men  able  to  read  what 
comes  before  them  justly,  variously,  and  fruitfully. 
Hence,  too,  it  is  that  in  our  intercourse  with  others, 
in  business  and  family  matters,  social  and  political 
transactions,  a  word  or  an  act  on  the  part  of  another 
is  sometimes  a  sudden  revelation;  light  breaks  in 
upon  us,  .and  our  whole  judgment  of  a  course  of 
events,  or  of  an  undertaking,  is  changed.  \Yc  deter- 
mine correctly  or  otherwise,  as  it  may  be;  but  in 
either  case,  by  a  sense  proper  to  ourselves,  for  an- 


Natural  hiference,  325 

other  may  see  the  objects  which  we  are  thus  using, 
and  give  them  quite  a  different  interpretation,  inas- 
much as  he  abstracts  another  set  of  general  notions 
from  those  same  phenomena  which  present  them- 
selves to  us. 

What  I  have  been  saying  of  Ratiocination,  may  be 
said  of  Taste,  and  is  confirmed  by  the  obvious  analo- 
gy between  the  two.  Taste,  skill,  invention  in  the 
fine  arts — and  so,  again,  discretion  or  judgment  in 
conduct — are  exerted  spontaneously,  when  once  ac- 
quired, and  could  not  give  a  clear  account  of  them- 
selves, or  of  their  mode  of  proceeding.  They  do  not 
go  by  rule,  though  to  a  certain  point  their  exercise 
may  be  analyzed,  and  may  take  the  shape  of  an  art 
or  method.  But  these  parallels  will  come  before  us 
presently. 

And  now  I  come  to  a  further  peculiarity  of  this 
natural  and  spontaneous  ratiocination.  This  faculty, 
as  it  is  actually  found  in  us,  proceeding  from  concrete 
to  concrete,  belongs  to  a  definite  subject-matter,  ac- 
cording to  the  individual.  In  spite  of  Aristotle,  I 
will  not  allow  that  genuine  reasoning  is  an  instru- 
mental art ;  and  in  spite  of  Dr.  Johnson,  I  will  assert 
that  genius,  as  far  as  it  is  manifested  in  ratiocination, 
is  not  equal  to  all  undertakings,  but  has  its  own  pecu- 
liar subject-matter,  and  is  circumscribed  in  its  range. 
No  one  would  for  a  moment  expect  that  because 
Newton  and  Napoleon  both  had  a  genius  for  ratioci- 
nation, that,  in  consequence.  Napoleon  could  have 
generalized  the  principle  of  gravitation,  or  Newton 
have  seen  how  to  concentrate  a  hundred  thousand 
men  at  Austerlitz.  The  ratiocinative  faculty,  then, 
as  found  in  individuals,  is  not  a  general  instrument 


326  Inference, 

of  knowledge,  but  has  its  province,  or  is  what  may 
be  called  departmental.  It  is  not  so  much  one  facul- 
ty, as  a  collection  of  similar  or  analogous  faculties, 
under  one  name,  there  being  really  as  many  faculties 
as  there  are  distinct  subject-matters,  though  in  the 
same  person  some  of  them  may,  if  it  so  happen,  be 
united, — nay,  though  some  men  have  a  sort  of  litera- 
ry power  in  arguing  on  all  of  them,  de  o?nni  scibili,  a 
power  extensive,  but  not  deep  or  real. 

This  surely  is  the  conclusion,  to  which  we  are 
brought  by  our  ordinary  experience  of  men.  It  is  al- 
most proverbial  that  a  hard-headed  mathematician 
may  have  no  head  at  all  for  what  is  called  historical 
evidence.  Successful  experimentalists  need  not  have 
talent  for  legal  research  or  pleading.  A  shrewd  man 
of  business  may  be  a  bad  arguer  in  philosophical 
questions.  Able  statesmen  and  politicians  have  been 
before  now  eccentric  or  superstitious  in  their  reli- 
gious views.  It  is  notorious  how  ridiculous  a  clever 
man  may  make  himself,  v/ho  ventures  to  argue  Avith 
professed  theologians,  critics,  or  geologists,  though 
without  positive  defects  in  knowledge  of  his  subject. 
Priestley,  great  in  electricity  and  chemistry,  was  but 
a  poor  ecclesiastical  historian.  The  Author  of  the 
Minute  Philosopher  is  also  the  Author  of  the  Ana- 
lyst. Newton  wrote  not  onl}^  his  ''  Principia,"  but 
his  comments  on  the  Apocalypse  ;  Cromwell,  whose 
actions  savored  of  the  boldest  logic,  was  a  confused 
speaker.  In  these,  and  various  similar  instances,  the 
defect  lay,  not  so  much  in  an  ignorance  of  facts,  as  in 
an  inability  to  handle  those  facts  suitably ;  in  feeble 
or  perverse  modes  of  abstraction,  observation,  com- 
parison, anatysis,  inference,  which  nothing  could  have 


Natural  Inference,  327 

obviated,  but  that  which   was  wanting, — a  specific 
talent,  and  a  ready  exercise  of  it. 

I  have  ah-eady  referred  to  the  faculty  of  memory 
in  illustration  ;  it  will  serve  me  also  here.  We  can 
form  an  abstract  idea  of  memory,  and  call  it  one  fac- 
ulty, which  has  for  its  subject-matter  all  past  facts  of 
our  personal  experience  ;  but  this  is  really  only  an 
illusion  ;  for  there  is  no  such  gift  of  universal  memo- 
r}^  Of  course  we  all  remember,  in  a  way,  as  we 
reason,  in  all  subject-matters  ;  but  I  am  speaking  of 
remembering  rightly,  as  I  spoke  of  reasoning  right- 
ly. In  real  fact  memory,  as  a  talent,  is  not  one  indi- 
visible faculty,  but  a  power  of  retaining  and  recalling 
the  past  in  this  or  that  department  of  our  experience, 
not  in  any  whatever.  Two  memories,  which  are 
both  specially  retentive,  may  also  be  incommensu- 
rate. Some  men  can  recite  the  canto  of  a  poem,  or 
good  part  of  a  speech,  after  once  reading  it,  but  have 
no  head  for  dates.  Others  have  great  capacity  for 
the  vocabulary  of  languages,  but  recollect  nothing 
of  the  small  occurrences  of  the  day  or  year.  Others 
never  forget  any  statement  which  they  have  read, 
and  can  give  volume  and  page,  but  have  no  memory 
for  faces.  I  have  known  those  who  could,  without 
effort,  run  through  the  succession  of  days  on  which 
Easter  fell  for  years  back  ;  or  could  say  where  they 
were,  or  what  they  were  doing,  on  a  given  day,  in 
a  given  year  ;  or  could  recollect  accurately  the  Chris- 
tian names  of  friends  and  strangers  ;  or  could  enume- 
rate in  exact  order  the  names  on  all  the  shops  from 
Hyde  Park  Corner  to  the  Bank ;  or  had  so  mastered 
the  University  Calendar  as  to  be  able  to  bear  an 
examination  in  the  academical  history  of  any  INI. A. 


328  Inference, 

taken  at  random.  And  I  believe  in  most  of  these 
cases  the  talent,  in  its  exceptional  character,  did  not 
extend  beyond  several  classes  of  subjects.  There  are 
a  hundred  memories,  as  there  are  a  hundred  virtues. 
Natural  virtue  is  one  in  the  abstract ;  but,  in  fact, 
gentle  and  kind  natures  are  not  therefore  heroic,  and 
prudent  and  self-controlled  minds  need  not  be  open- 
handed.  At  the  utmost  such  virtue  is  one  onl}^  in 
posse  ;  as  developed  in  the  concrete,  it  takes  the  shape 
of  species  which  in  no  sense  imply  each  other. 

So  is  it  with  Ratiocination ;  and  as  we  should  be- 
take ourselves  to  Newton  for  physical,  not  for  theo- 
logical conclusions,  and  to  Wellington  for  his  military 
experience,  not  for  statesmanship,  so  the  maxim  holds 
good  generally, ''  Cuique  in  arte  sua  credendum  est ;'' 
or,  to  use  the  grand  words  of  Aristotle,  ''  We  are 
bound  to  give  heed  to  the  undemonstrated  sayings 
and  opinions  of  the  experienced  and  the  aged,  not 
less  than  to  demonstrations  ;  because,  from  their  hav- 
ing the  eye  of  experience,  they  behold  the  principles 
of  things."  "^  And  if  we  wish  to  share  in  their  con- 
victions and  the  grounds  of  them,  we  must  follovv^ 
their  history,  and  learn  as  they  have  learned.  We 
must  take  up  their  particular  subject  as  they  took  it 
up,  beginning  at  the  beginning,  give  ourselves  to  it, 
depend  on  practice  and  experience  more  than  on  rea- 
soning, and  thus  gain  that  mental  insight  into  truth, 
whatever  its  subject-matter  may  be,  which  our  mas- 
ters have  gained  before  us.  Instead  of  trusting  logi- 
cal science,  we  must  trust  persons,  namely,  those  who 
by  long  acquaintance  with  their  subject  have  a  right 

*  EUi.  Nicom.  vi.  11,  fin. 


Natural  Inference.  2i'^(^ 

to  judge.  We  too,  of  course,  may  make  ourselves  of 
their  number,  and  then  we  rightly  trust  ourselves ; 
we  trust  our  moral  or  intellectual  judgment,  but  not 
our  skill  in  argumentation. 

This  doctrine,  stated  in  substance  as  above,  by  the 
great  philosopher  of  antiquity,  is  more  fully  ex- 
pounded in  a  passage  which  he  elsewhere  quotes 
from  Hesiod.  ''  Best  of  all  is  he,"  says  that  poet, 
''  who  is  wise  by  his  own  wit ;  next  best  he  who  is 
wise  by  the  Avit  of  others  ;  but  whoso  is  neither  able 
to  see,  nor  willing  to  hear,  he  is  a  good-for-nothing 
fellow."  Judgment  then  in  all  concrete  matter  is  the 
architectonic  faculty ;  and  what  may  be  called  the 
Illative  Sense,  or  judgment  in  ratiocination,  is  one 
branch  of  it. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    ILLATIVE    SENSE. 

My  object  in  the  foregoing  pages  has  been,  not  to 
form  a  theory  Avhich  may  account  for  those  phenom- 
ena of  the  intellect  of  which  they  treat,  but  to  ascer- 
tain what  the  fact  is  as  regards  them,  that  is,  when  it 
is  that  assent  is  given  to  propositions  and  under  what 
circumstances.  I  have  never  had  the  thought  of  an 
attempt  which  would  be  ambitious  in  me,  and  which 
has  failed  in  the  hands  of  others,  if  that  attempt  may 
not  unfairly  be  called  unsuccessful,  which,  though 
made  by  the  acutest  minds,  has  not  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing opponents.  Especially  have  I  found  myself 
unequal  to  antecedent  reasonings  in  the  instance  of  a 
matter  of  fact.  There  are  those,  who,  arguing  a  pri- 
ori, maintain,  that,  since  experience  leads  by  syllogism 
only  to  probabilities,  certitude  is  ever  a  mistake. 
There  are  others,  who,  while  they  deny  this  conclu- 
sion, grant  the  a  priori  principle  assumed  in  the 
argument,  and  in  consequence  are  obliged,  in  order 
to  vindicate  the  certainty  of  our  knowledge,  to  have 
recourse  to  the  hypothesis  of  intuitions,  intellectual 
forms,  and  the  like,  which  belong  to  us  by  nature, 
and  may  be  considered  to  elevate  our  experiences 
into  something  more  than  they  are   in  themselves. 


The  Illative  Sense.  331 

Earnestly  maintaining-,  as  I  would,  with  this  latter 
school  of  philosophers,  the  certainty  of  knowledge,  I 
think  it  enough  to  appeal  to  the  common  voice  of 
mankind  in  proof  of  it.  That  is  to  be  accounted  a 
normal  faculty  of  our  nature,  which  men  in  general 
do  actually  exercise.  That  is  a  law  of  our  minds, 
which  is  exemplified  in  action  on  a  large  scale,  whether 
a  priori  it  ought  to  be  a  law  or  no.  Our  hoping  is  a 
proof  that  hope,  as  such,  is  not  an  extravagance  ;  and 
our  possession  of  certitude  is  a  proof  that  it  is  not  a 
weakness  or  an  absurdity  to  be  certain.  How  it 
■comes  about  that  we  can  be  certain  is  not  my  busi- 
ness to  determine  ;  for  me  it  is  sufficient  that  certitude 
is  felt.  This  is  what  the  schoolmen,  I  beheve,  call 
treating  a  subject  in  facto  esse,  in  contrast  with  in  fieri. 
Had  I  attempted  the  latter,  I  should  have  been  fall- 
ing into  metaphysics;  but  my  aim  is  of  a  practical 
character,  such  as  that  of  Butler  in  his  Analogy,  with 
this  difference,  that  he  treats  of  probability,  doubt, 
expedience,  and  duty,  whereas  in  these  pages,  with- 
out excluding,  far  from  it,  the  question  of  duty,  I 
would  confine  myself  to  the  truth  of  things,  and  to 
the  mind's  certitude  of  that  truth. 

Certitude  is  a  mental  state  :  certainty  is  a  quality 
of  propositions.  Those  propositions  I  call  certain, 
which  are  such  that  I  am  certain  of  them.  Certitude 
is  not  a  passive. impression  made  upon  the  mind  from 
without,  by  argumentative  compulsion,  but  in  all 
concrete  questions  (nay,  even  in  abstract,  for  though 
the  reasoning  is  abstract,  the  mind  which  judges  of  it 
is  concrete)  it  is  an  active  recognition  of  propositions 
as  true,  such  as  it  is  the  duty  of  each  individual  to 
exercise  for  himself  at  the  bidding  of  reason,  and, 


33^ 


The  Illative  Sense, 


when  reason  forbids,  to  withhold.  And  reason  never 
bids  us  be  certain  except  on  an  absolute  proof ;  and 
such  a  proof  can  never  be  furnished  to  us  by  the 
logic  of  words,  for  as  certitude  is  of  the  mind,  so  is 
the  act  of  inference  which  leads  to  it.  Every  one 
who  reasons,  is  his  own  centre  ;  and  no  expedient  for 
attaining  a  common  measure  of  minds  can  reverse 
this  truth ; — but  then  the  question  follows,  is  there 
any  criterion  of  an  act  of  inference,  such  as  may  be 
our  warrant  that  certitude  is  rightly  elicited  in  favor 
of  the  proposition  inferred,  since  our  warrant  cannot, 
as  I  have  said,  be  scientific  ?  I  have  already  said  that 
the  sole  and  final  judgment  on  the  validity  of  an 
inference  in  concrete  matter  is  committed  to  a  mental 
faculty,  which  I  have  called  the  Illative  Sense ;  and 
I  own  I  do  not  see  any  way  to  go  farther  than  this 
in  answer  to  the  question.  However,  I  can  at  least 
explain  my  meaning  more  fully  ;  and  therefore  I  will 
now  speak,  first  of  the  sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense, 
next  of  its  nature,  and  then  of  its  range. 


The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense.      7,'^z 


§  I.  The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense. 

We  are  in  a  world  of  facts,  and  we  use  them  ;  for 
there  is  nothing  else  to  use.  We  do  not  quarrel  with 
them,  but  we  take  them  as  they  are,  and  avail  our- 
selves of  what  they  can  do  for  us.  It  would  be  out 
of  place  to  demand  of  fire,  water,  earth,  and  air  their 
credentials,  so  to  say,  for  acting  upon  us,  or  minister- 
ing to  us.  We  call  them  elements,  and  turn  them  to 
account,  and  make  the  most  of  them.  We  speculate 
on  them  at  our  leisure.  But  what  we  are  still  less 
able  to  doubt  about  or  annul,  at  our  leisure  or  not,  is 
that  which  is  at  once  their  counterpart  and  their  wit- 
ness, I  mean,  ourselves.  We  are  conscious  of  the 
objects  of  external  nature,  and  we  reflect  and  act 
upon  them,  and  this  consciousness,  reflection,  and 
action  we  call  our  own  rational  nature.  And  as  we 
use  the  (so  called)  elements  without  first  criticizing 
what  we  have  no  command  over,  so  is  it  much  more 
unmeaning  in  us,  to  criticize  or  find  fault  with  our 
own  nature,  which  is  nothing  else  than  we,  instead  of 
using  it  according  to  the  use  of  which  it  ordinarily 
admits.  Our  being,  with  its  faculties,  mind  and  body, 
is  a  fact  not  admitting  of  question,  all  things  being  of 
necessity  referred  to  it,  not  it  to  other  things. 

If  I  may  not  assume  that  I  exist,  and  in  a  particu- 


334  ^-^^  Illative  Se^zse, 

lar  way,  that  is,  with  a  particular  mental  constitution, 
I  have  nothing  to  speculate  about,  and  had  better  let 
speculation  alone.  Such  as  I  am,  it  is  my  all ;  this  is 
my  essential  stand-point,  and  must  be  taken  for  grant- 
ed ;  otherwise,  thought  is  but  an  idle  amusement,  not 
worth  the  trouble.  There  is  no  medium  between 
using  my  faculties,  as  I  have  them,  and  flinging  my- 
self upon  the  external  world  according  to  the  ran- 
dom impulse  of  the  moment,  as  spray  upon  the 
surface  of  the  waves,  and  simply  forgetting  that  I 
am. 

I  am  what  I  am,  or  I  am  nothing.  I  cannot  think, 
reflect,  or  judge,  without  starting  from  the  very  point 
which  I  aim  at  concluding.  My  ideas  are  all  assump- 
tions, and  I  am  ever  moving  in  a  circle.  I  cannot 
avoid  being  sufficient  for  myself,  for  I  cannot  make 
myself  any  thing  else,  and  to  change  me  is  to  destroy 
me.  If  I  do  not  use  myself,  I  have  no  other  self  to 
use.  My  only  business  is  to  ascertain  what  I  am,  in 
order  to  put  it  to  use.  It  is  enough  for  the  proof  of 
the  value  and  authority  of  any  function  which  I  pos- 
sess, to  be  able  to  pronounce  that  it  is  natural.  What 
I  have  to  ascertain  is  the  laws  under  which  I  live. 
My  first  elementary  lesson  of  duty  is  that  of  resigna- 
tion to  the  laws  of  my  nature,  whatever  they  are  ; 
my  first  disobedience  is  to  be  impatient  at  what  I  am, 
and  to  indulge  an  ambitious  aspiration  after  what  I 
cannot  be,  to  cherish  a  distrust  of  my  powers,  and  to 
desire  to  change  laws  which  are  identical  with  my- 
self. 

Truths  such  as  these,  which  are  too  obvious  to  be 
called  irresistible,  are  illustrated  by  what  we  see  m 
universal  nature.     Every  being  is  in  a  true  sense  suf- 


The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense.       335 

ficient  for  itself,  so  as  to  be  able  to  fulfil  its  particular 
needs.  It  is  a  general  law  that,  whatever  is  found  as 
a  function  or  an  attribute  of  any  class  of  beings,  or  is 
natural  to  it,  is  in  its  substance  suitable  to  it,  and  sub- 
serves its  existence,  and  cannot  be  rightly  regarded 
as  a  fault  or  enormity.  No  being  could  endure,  of 
which  the  constituent  parts  were  at  war  with  each 
other.  And  more  than  this ;  there  is  that  principle 
of  vitality  in  every  being,  which  is  of  a  sanative  and 
restorative  character,  and  which  brings  all  its  parts 
and  functions  together  into  one  whole,  and  is  ever 
repelling  and  correcting  the  mischiefs  which  befall  it, 
whether  from  within  or  without,  while  showing  no 
tendency  to  cast  off  its  belongings  as  if  foreign  to  its 
nature.  The  brute  animals  are  found  severally  with 
limbs  and  organs,  habits,  instincts,  appetites,  surround- 
ings, which  play  together  for  the  safety  and  welfare 
of  the  whole ;  and,  after  all  exceptions,  may  be  said 
each  of  them  to  have,  after  its  own  kind,  a  perfection 
of  nature.  Man  is  the  highest  of  the  animals,  and 
more  indeed  than  an  animal,  as  having  a  mind ;  that 
is,  he  has  a  complex  nature  different  from  theirs,  with 
a  higher  aim  and  a  specific  perfection  ;  but  still  the 
fact  that  other  beings  find  their  good  in  the  use  of 
their  particular  nature,  is  a  reason  for  anticipating 
that  to  use  duly  our  own  is  our  interest  as  well  as  our 
necessity 

What  is  the  peculiarity  of  our  nature,  in  contrast 
with  the  inferior  animals  around  us?  It  is  that, 
though  man  cannot  change  what  he  is  born  with,  he 
is  a  being  of  progress  with  relation  to  his  perfection 
and  characteristic  good.  Other  beings  are  complete 
froQi  their  first  existence,  in  that  fine  of  excellence 


2,3^  The  Illative  Sense. 

which  is  allotted  to  them  ;  but  man  begins  with  no- 
thing reahzed  (to  use  the  word),  and  he  has  to 
make  capital  for  himself  by  the  exercise  of  those  fac- 
ulties which  are  his  natural  inheritance.  Thus  he 
gradually  advances  to  the  fulness  of  his  original  des- 
tiny. Nor  is  this  progress  mechanical,  nor  is  it  of 
necessity ;  it  is  committed  to  the  personal  efforts  of 
each  individual  of  the  species  ;  each  of  us  has  the 
prerogative  of  completing  his  inchoate  and  rudi- 
mental  nature,  and  of  developing  his  own  perfection 
out  of  the  living  elements  with  which  his  mind  be- 
gan to  be.  It  is  his  gift  to  be  the  creator  of  his  own 
sufficiency  ;  and  to  be  emphatically  self-made.  This 
is  the  law  of  his  being,  which  he  cannot  escape ;  and 
whatever  is  involved  in  that  law  he  is  bound,  or  rather 
he  is  carried  on,  to  fulfil. 

And  here  I  am  brought  to  the  bearing  of  these 
remarks  upon  my  subject.  For  this  law  of  progress 
is  carried  out  by  means  of  the  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge, of  which  inference  and  assent  are  the  immedi- 
ate instruments.  If,  then,  the  advancement  of  our 
nature,  both  in  ourselves  individually  and  as  regards 
the  human  family,  is  to  every  one  of  us  in  his  place  a 
sacred  duty,  it  follows  that  that  duty  is  intimately 
bound  up  with  the  right  use  of  these  two  main  in- 
struments of  fulfilling  it.  And  as  we  do  not  gain  the 
knowledge  of  the  law  of  progress  by  any  a  priori 
view  of  man,  but  by  looking  at  it  as  the  interpreta- 
tion which  is  provided  by  himself  on  a  large  scale  in 
the  ordinary  action  of  his  intellectual  nature,  so  too 
we  must  appeal  to  himself,  as  a  fact,  and  not  to  any 
antecedent  theory,  in  order  to  find  what  is  the  law 
of  his  mind  as  regards  the  two  faculties  in  question. 


The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense,      2>c>7 

If  then  such  an  appeal  does  bear  me  out  in  deciding, 
as  I  have  done,  that  the  course  of  inference  is  ever 
more  or  less  obscure,  while  assent  is  ever  distinct 
and  definite,  and  yet  that  what  is  in  its  nature  thus 
absolute  does,  in  fact,  follow  upon  what  in  outward 
manifestation  is  thus  complex,  indirect,  and  recon- 
dite, what  is  left  to  us  but  to  take  things  as  they  are, 
and  to  resign  ourselves  to  what  we  find  ?  that  is,  in- 
stead of  devising,  what  cannot  be,  some  sufficient 
science  of  reasoning  which  maj^  compel  certitude  in 
concrete  conclusions,  to  confess  that  there  is  no  ulti- 
mate test  of  truth  besides  the  testimony  borne  to 
truth  by  the  mind  itself,  and  that  this  phenomenon, 
perplexing  as  we  may  find  it,  is  a  normal  and  inevita- 
ble characteristic  of  the  mental  constitution  of  a  be- 
ing like  man  on  a  stage  such  as  the  world.  His  pro- 
gress is  a  living  growth,  not  a  mechanism  ;  and  its 
instruments  are  mental  acts,  not  the  formulas  and 
contrivances  of  language. 

We  are  accustomed  in  this  day  to  lay  great  stress 
upon  the  harmony  of  the  universe  ;  and  we  have  well 
learned  the  maxim  so  pov/erfully  inculcated  by  our 
own  EngHsh  philosopher,  that  in  our  inquiries  into 
its  laws,  we  must  sternly  destroy  all  idols  of  the 
intellect,  and  subdue  nature  by  co-operating  with 
her.  Knowledge  is  power,  for  it  enables  us  to  use 
eternal  principles  which  we  cannot  alter.  So  also  is 
it  in  that  microcosm,  the  humian  mind.  Let  us  fol- 
low Bacon  more  closely  than  to  distort  its  faculties 
according  to  the  demands  of  an  ideal  optimism,  in- 
stead of  looking  out  for  modes  of  thought  proper  to 
our  nature,  and  faithfully  observing  them  in  our 
intellectual  exercises. 


338  The  Illative  Sense, 

Of  course  I  do  not  stop  here.  As  the  structure  of 
the  universe  speaks  to  us  ol  Him  who  made  it,  so  the 
laws  of  the  mind  are  the  expression,  not  of  mere  con- 
stituted order,  but  of  His  will.  I  should  be  bound  by 
them  even  were  they  not  His  laws ;  but  since  one  of 
their  very  functions  is  to  tell  me  of  Him,  they  throw 
a  reflex  light  upon  themselves,  and,  for  resigna- 
tion to  my  destiny,  I  substitute  a  cheerful  concur- 
rence in  an  overruling  Providence.  We  may  gladly 
welcome  such  difficulties  as  there  are  in  our  mental 
constitution,  and  in  the  inter-action  of  our  faculties, 
if  we  are  able  to  feel  that  He  gave  them  to  us,  and 
He  can  overrule  them  for  us.  We  may  securely  take 
them  as  they  are,  and  use  them  as  we  find  them.  It 
is  He  who  teaches  us  all  knowledge  ;  and  the  way  by 
which  we  acquire  it  is  His  way.  He  varies  that  way 
according  to  the  subject-matter ;  but  whether  He  has 
set  before  us  in  our  particular  pursuit  the  way  of 
observation  or  of  experiment,  of  speculation  or  of 
research,  of  demonstration  or  of  probability,  whether 
we  are  inquiring  into  the  system  of  the  universe,  or 
into  the  elements  of  matter  and  of  life,  or  into  the 
history  of  human  society  and  past  times,  if  we  take 
the  way,  proper  to  our  subject-matter,  we  have  His 
blessing  upon  us,  and  shall  find,  besides  abundant 
matter  for  mere  opinion,  the  materials  in  due  measure 
of  proof  and  assent. 

And  especially,  by  this  disposition  of  things,  shall 
Ave  learn,  as  regards  religious  and  ethical  inquiries, 
how  little  we  can  effect,  however  much  we  exert  our- 
selves, without  that  Blessing  ;  for,  as  if  on  set  pur- 
pose. He  has  made  this  path  of  thought  rugged  and 
circuitous  above  other  investigations,  that  the  very 


The  Sanction  of  the  Illative  Sense.      339 

discipline  inflicted  on  our  minds  in  finding  Him,  may 
mould  them  into  due  devotion  to  Him  when  He  is 
found.  ''  Verily  Thou  art  a  hidden  God,  the  God  of 
Israel,  the  Saviour,"  is  the  very  law  of  His  dealings 
with  us.  Certainly  we  need  a  clue  into  the  labyrinth 
which  is  to  lead  us  to  Him ;  and  who  among  us  can 
hope  to  seize  upon  the  true  starting-points  of  thought 
for  that  enterprise,  and  upon  all  of  them,  to  under- 
stand their  right  direction,  to  follow  them  out  to 
their  just  limits,  and  duly  to  estimate,  adjust,  and 
combine  the  various  reasonings  in  which  they  issue, 
so  as  safely  to  arrive  at  what  it  is  worth  any  labor  to 
secure,  without  a  special  illumination  from  Himself? 
Such  are  the  dealings  of  Wisdom  with  the  elect  soul. 
"  She  will  bring  upon  him  fear,  and  dread,  and  trial ; 
and  She  will  torture  him  with  the  tribulation  of  Her 
discipline,  till  She  try  him  by  Her  laws,  and  trust  his 
soul.  Then  She  will  strengthen  him,  and  make  Her 
way  straight  to  him,  and  give  him  jo}^" 


340  The  Illative  Sense, 


§  2.  The  Nature  of  the  Illative  Sense. 

It  is  the  mind  that  reasons,  and  that  controls  its 
own  reasonings,  not  any  technical  apparatus  of  words 
and  propositions.  Great  as  are  the  services  of  lan- 
guage in  enabling  us  to  extend  the  range  of  our 
inferences,  to  test  their  validity,  and  to  communicate 
them  to  others,  still  the  mind  itself  is  more  versatile 
and  vigorous  than  any  of  its  works,  of  which  language 
is  one  ;  and  it  is  only  under  its  penetrating  and  sub- 
tle action  that  the  margin  disappears,  which  I  have 
described  as  intervening  between  verbal  argumenta- 
tion and  concrete  conclusions.  It  determines  what 
science  cannot  determine,  the  limit  of  converging 
probabilities,  and  the  reasons  sufficient  for  a  proof. 
This  power  of  judging  about  truth  and  error  in 
concrete  matters,  I  call  the  Illative  Sense,  and  I  shall 
best  illustrate  it  by  referring  to  parallel  faculties, 
which  we  commonly  recognize  without  difficulty. 

For  instance,  how  does  the  mind  fulfil  its  function 
of  supreme  direction  and  control,  in  matters  of  duty, 
social  intercourse,  and  taste  ?  In  all  of  these  separate 
actions  of  the  intellect,  the  individual  is  supreme,  and 
responsible  to  himself,  nay,  under  circumstances,  may 
be  justified  in  opposing  himself  to  the  judgment  of 
the  whole  world ;  though  he  uses  rules  to  his  great 


The  Nature  of  the  Illative   Sense,       341 

advantage,  as  far  as  they  go,  and  is  in  consequence 
bound  to  use  them.    As  regards  moral  duty,  the  sub- 
ject is   fully  considered   in  the  Avell-known    ethical 
treatises  of  Aristotle.     He   calls   the   faculty  which 
guides  the  mind  in  matters  of  conduct,  by  the  name 
oiphronesis,  or  judgment.     This  is  the  directing,  con- 
troUing,  and  determining  principle  in  such  matters, 
personal  and  social.      What  it  is  to  be  virtuous,  how 
we  are  to  gain  the  just  idea  and  standard  of  virtue, 
how  we  are  to  approximate  in  practice  to  our  own 
standard,  what  is  right  and   wrong  in  a   particular 
case,  for  the  answers  in  fulness  and  accuracy  to  these 
and  similar  questions,  the  philosopher  refers  us  to  no 
code  of  laws,  to  no  moral  treatise,  because  no  science 
of  life,  applicable  to  the  case  of  an  individual,  has 
been  or  can  be  wruten.    Such  is  Aristotle's  doctrine, 
and  it  is  undoubtedly  true.     An  ethical  system  may 
supply  laws,  general  rules,  guiding  principles,  a  num- 
ber of  examples,  suggestions,  landmarks,  limitations, 
cautions,  distinctions,  solutions  of  critical  or  anxious 
difficulties  ;  but  Avho  is  to  apply  them  to  a  particular 
case  ?  whither  can  we  go,  except  to  the  living  intel- 
lect, our  own,  or  another's  ?      What  is  written  is  too 
vague,  too  negative  for  our  need.      It  bids  us  avoid 
extremes  ;  but  it  cannot  ascertain  for  us,  according  to 
our  personal  need,  the  golden  mean.     The  authorita- 
tive oracle,  which  is  to  decide  our  path,  is  something 
more  searching  and  manifold  than  such  jejune  gener- 
alizations as  treatises  can  give,  which  are  most  dis- 
tinct and  clear,  when  we  least  need  them.    It  is  seated 
in  the  mind  of  the  individual,  who  is  thus  his  own 
law,  his  own  teacher,  and  his  own  judge  in  those 
special  cases  of  duty  which  are  personal  to  him.      It 


342  The  Illative  Sense, 

comes  of  an  acquired  habit,  though  it  has  its  first 
origin  in  nature  itself,  and  it  is  formed  and  matured 
by  practice  and  experience ;  and  it  manifests  itself, 
not  in  any  breadth  of  view,  any  philosophical  compre- 
hension of  the  mutual  relations  of  duty  towards  duty, 
or  any  consistency  in  its  teachings,  but  it  is  a  capa- 
city sufficient  for  the  occasion,  deciding  what  ought 
to  be  done  here  and  now,  by  this  given  person,  un- 
der these  given  circumstances.  It  decides  nothing 
hypothetical,  it  does  not  determine  what  a  man  shall 
do  ten  years  hence,  or  what  another  should  do  at  this 
time.  It  may  indeed  decide  ten  years  hence  as  it 
does  now,  and  decide  another  case  now  as  it  decides 
the  case  which  is  before  it ;  still  its  present  act  is  for 
the  present,  not  for  the  distant  or  the  future. 

The  law  of  the  land  is  inflexible,  but  this  mental 
rule  is  not  only  minute  and  particular,  but  has  an 
elasticity,  which,  in  its  application  to  individual  cases, 
is,  as  I  have  said,  not  studious  to  maintain  the  appear- 
ance of  consistency.  In  old  times  the  mason's  rule 
which  was  in  use  at  Lesbos  was,  according  to  Aris- 
totle, not  of  wood  or  iron,  but  of  lead,  so  as  to  allow 
of  its  adjustment  to  the  uneven  surface  of  the  stones 
brought  together  for  the  work.  Such  is  the  philoso- 
pher's illustration  of  the  nature  of  equity  in  contrast 
with  law,  and  such  is  that  phronests,  from  which  the 
science  of  morals  forms  its  rules,  and  receives  its  com- 
plement. 

In  this  respect  of  course  the  law  of  truth  differs 
from  the  law  of  duty,  that  duties  change,  but  truths 
never ;  but,  though  truth  is  ever  one  and  the  same, 
and  the  assent  of  certitude  is  immutable,  still  the 
reasonings  which  carry  us  on  to  truth  and  certitude 


The  Nature  of  the  Illative  Sense.       343 

are  many  and  distinct,  and  vary  with  the  inquirer ; 
and  it  is  not  with  assent,  but  with  the  controlling 
principle  in  inferences  that  I  am  com  paring //^r<?;?rj'2>. 
Therefore  it  is  that  I  say  that  as  regards  conduct,  the 
rule  for  one  man  is  not  always  the  rule  for  another, 
though  the  rule  is  always  one  and  the  same  in  the 
abstract,  and  in  its  principle  and  scope.  To  learn  his 
own  duty  in  his  own  case,  each  individual  must  have 
recourse  to  his  own  rule ;  and  if  his  rule  is  not  suffi- 
ciently developed  in  his  intellect  for  his  need,  then  he 
goes  to  some  other  living,  present  authority,  to  supply 
it  for  him,  not  to  the  dead  letter  of  a  treatise  or  a 
code.  A  living,  present  authority,  himself  or  another, 
is  his  immediate  guide  in  matters  of  a  personal,  social, 
or  political  character.  In  buying  and  selling,  in  con- 
tracts, in  his  treatment  of  others,  in  giving  and  re- 
ceiving, in  thinking,  speaking,  doing,  and  working,  in 
toil,  in  danger,  in  his  recreations  and  pleasures,  every 
one  of  his  acts,  to  be  praiseworthy,  must  be  in  accord- 
ance with  his  practical  sense.  Thus  it  is,  and  not  by 
science,  that  he  perfects  the  virtues  of  justice,  self- 
command,  magnanimity,  generosity,  gentleness,  and 
all  others.  PJironesis  is  the  regulating  principle  of 
every  one  of  them. 

These  last  words  lead  me  to  a  further  remark.  I 
doubt  whether  it  is  correct,  strictly  speaking,  to  con- 
sider this  pJironesis  as  a  general  faculty,  directing  and 
perfecting  all  the  virtues  at  once.  So  understood,  it 
is  little  better  than  an  abstract  term,  including  under 
it  a  circle  of  analogous  faculties,  severally  proper  to 
the  separate  virtues.  Properly  speaking,  there  are  as 
many  kinds  oi pJironesis  as  there  are  virtues  ;  for  the 
judgment,  good  sense,  or  tact  which  is  conspicuous 


344  '^^^  Illative  Sense, 

in  a  man's  conduct  in  one  subject-matter  ^s  not 
necessarily  traceable  in  another.  As  in  the  parallel 
cases  of  memory  and  reasoning,  he  may  be  great  in 
one  aspect  of  his  character,  and  little-minded  in 
another.  He  may  be  exemplary  in  his  family,  j^et 
commit  a  fraud  on  the  revenue  ;  he  may  be  just  and 
cruel,  brave  and  sensual,  imprudent  and  patient. 
And  if  this  be  true  of  the  moral  virtues,  it  holds  good 
still  more  fully  when  we  compare  what  is  called  his 
private  character  with  his  public.  A  good  man  may 
make  a  bad  king  ;  profligates  have  been  great  states- 
men, or  magnanimous  political  leaders. 

So,  too,  I  may  go  on  to  speak  of  the  various  call- 
ings and  professions  which  give  scope  to  the  exercise 
of  great  talents,  for  these  talents  also  are  matured, 
not  by  mere  rule,  but  by  personal  skill  and  sagacity. 
They  are  as  diverse  as  pleading  and  cross-examining, 
conducting  a  debate  in  Parliament,  swa3dng  a  public 
meeting,  and  commanding  an  arni}^ ;  and  here,  too,  I 
observe  that,  though  the  directing  principle  is  called 
by  the  same  names, — for  instance,  sagacity,  skill,  tact, 
or  prudence, — still  there  is  no  one  ruling  faculty 
leading  to  eminence  in  all  these  various  lines  of  action 
in  common,  but  men  will  excel  in  one  of  them,  with- 
out any  talent  for  the  rest. 

The  parallel  may  be  continued  in  the  case  of  the 
Fine  Arts,  in  which,  though  true  and  scientific  rules 
may  be  given,  no  one  would  therefore  deny  that 
Phidias  or  Rafael  had  a  far  more  subtle  standard  of 
taste  and  a  more  versatile  power  of  cmbod3^ing  it  in 
his  works  than  any  which  he  could  communicate  to 
others  in  even  a  series  of  treatises.  And  here  again 
genius  is  indissolubly  united  to'  one  definite  subject- 


The  Nature  of  the  Illative  Sense.       345 

matter  ;  a  poet  is  not  therefore  a  painter,  or  an  archi- 
tect a  musical  composer. 

And  so  again,  as  regards  the  useful  arts  and  per- 
sonal accomplishments,  we  use  the  same  word 
"•  skill,"  but  proficiency  in  engineering  or  in  ship- 
building, or  again  in  engraving,  or  again  in  singing, 
in  playing  instruments,  in  acting,  or  in  gymnastic 
exercises,  is  as  simply  one  with  its  particular  subject- 
matter,  as  the  human  soul  with  its  particular  body, 
and  is,  in  its  own  department,  a  sort  of  instinct  or 
inspiration,  not  an  obedience  to  external  rules  of 
criticism  or  of  science. 

It  is  natural,  then,  to  ask  the  question,  wh}^  ratio- 
cination should  be  an  exception  to  a  general  law 
which  attaches  to  the  intellectual  exercises  of  the 
mind ;  vv^hy  it  is  held  to  be  commensurate  with 
logical  science  ;  and  why  logic  is  made  an  instru- 
mental art  sufficient  for  determining  every  sort  of 
truth,  while  no  one  would  dream  of  making  any  one 
formula,  however  generalized,  a  working  rule  at 
once  for  poetry,  the  art  of  medicine,  and  political 
warfare  ? 

This  is  what  I  have  to  remark  concerning  the 
Illative  Sense,  and  in  explanation  of  its  nature  and 
claims  ;  and  on  the  whole,  I  have  spoken  of  it  in  four 
respects, — as  a  mental  exercise,  as  it  is  found  in  fact, 
as  to  the  process  it  uses,  and  as  to  its  function  and 
scope. 

First,  as  an  exercise  of  mind,  it  is  one  and  the  same 
in  all  concrete  matters,  though  emploj^ed  in  them  in 
different  measures.  We  do  not  reason  in  one  way 
in  chemistry  or  law,  in  another  in  morals  or  religion  ; 
but  in  reasoning  on  any  subject  whatever,  which  is 


34^  The  Illative  Sense. 

concrete,  we  proceed,  as  far  indeed  as  we  can,  by  the 
logic  of  language,  but  we  are  obliged  to  supplement 
it  by  the  logic  of  thought ;  for  forms  by  themselves 
prove  nothing. 

Secondly,  it  is  in  fact  attached  to  definite  subject- 
matters,  so  that  a  given  individual  may  possess  it,  in 
one  department  of  thought,  for  instance,  history,  and 
not  in  another,  for  instance,  philosophy. 

Thirdly,  it  proceeds,  in  coming  to  its  conclusion, 
always  in  the  same  wa}^,  by  a  method  of  reasoning, 
which  I  have  considered  as  analogous  to  that  mathe- 
matical calculus  of  modern  times,  which  has  so 
wonderfull}^  extended  the  limits  of  abstract  science. 

Fourthly,  in  no  class  of  concrete  reasonings,  whe- 
ther in  experimental  science,  historical  research,  or 
theology,  is  there  any  ultimate  test  of  truth  and 
error  in  our  inferences  besides  the  trustworthiness 
of  the  Illative  Sense  that  gives  them  its  sanction  ; 
just  as  there  is  no  sufficient  test  of  poetical  excellence, 
heroic  action,  or  gentlemanlike  conduct,  other  than 
the  particular  mental  sense,  be  it  genius,  taste,  sense 
of  propriety,  or  the  moral  sense,  to  which  those  sub- 
ject-matters are  severally  committed.  Our  duty  in 
each  of  these  is  to  strengthen  and  perfect  the  special 
faculty  which  is  its  living  rule,  and  in  every  case  as 
it  comes  to  do  our  best.  And  such  also  is  our  duty 
and  our  necessity,  as  regards  the  Illative  Sense. 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense,        347 


§  3.  The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense. 

Since  ratiocination,  viewed  in  itself,  is  an  instrumen- 
tal faculty,  though  in  fact  ever  embodied  and  acting 
in  some  definite  subject-matter  ;  such  also  is  the  Illa- 
tive Sense,  which  is  its  virtue  or  perfection.  It  is 
only  concerned  with  the  soundness  of  the  reasoning ; 
but  for  the  truth  of  the  conclusion  we  must  have  re- 
course to  the  truth  of  the  premisses.  It  is  a  capacity 
of  entering  with  instinctive  correctness  into  princi- 
ples, doctrines,  and  facts,  whether  they  be  true  or 
false,  and  of  discerning  promptly  what  conclusion 
from  them  is  necessary,  suitable,  and  expedient,  if 
they  are  taken  for  granted  ;  and  this,  either  by  means 
of  a  natural  gift,  or  from  long  habituation  to  those 
various  circumstances.  Thus,  when  Laud  said  that 
he  did  not  see  his  way  to  come  to  terms  with  the 
Holy  See,  till  Rome  was  "  other  than  she  is,"  no  Ca- 
tholic would  admit  his  sentiment;  but  any  CathoHc 
might  understand  that  it  was  just  the  judgment  con- 
sistent with  Laud's  actual  condition  of  thought  and 
cast  of  opinion,  and  that  any  other  judgment  would 
have  argued  a  defect  in  his  capacity  for  judging. 
This  intimate  understanding  of  an  assemblage  of 
intellectual  data,  of  our  position  of  mind  towards 
particular  questions,  and  of  the  relations  of  our  own 


34B  The  Illative  Sense. 

position  towards  other  conceivable  stand-points,  is 
the  first  and  last  of  the  faculty  or  talent,  which  I  call 
the  Ratiocinative  or  Illative  Sense,  being  parallel  to 
pJironesis  in  conduct,  and  to  taste  in  the  Fine  Arts. 

As  in  the  instance  just  given,  it  is  more  commonly 
engaged  on  particular  questions,  and  categorical 
answers,  than  on  conclusions  which  are  general  or 
probable,  and  as  such  I  have  mainly  considered  it; 
but  it  is  the  regulating  principle  of  all  reasoning  in  the 
concrete.  As  to  general  propositions,  these  are  cer- 
tainly not  concrete,  but  abstractions  ;  however,  they 
need  not  be  so  considered,  as  regards  their  scope  ; 
but  as  convenient  modes  of  expressing  by  anticipa- 
tion a  judgment  about  definite  concrete  things,  as 
they  come  before  us.  Thus,  if  I  say,  '■'  Most  English- 
men are  brave,"  this  general  enunciation  is  but  a 
comprehension  of  a  series  of  individual  cases,  pro- 
visionally thrown,  till  wanted,  into  the  shape  of  a 
formula,  and,  in  order  to  receive  a  real  meaning, 
must  be  translated  into  the  particular  proposition, 
''  This,  that,  or  the  other  Englishman,  who  comes 
before  us,  the  individmun  vaguvi^  \^  probably  brave." 

However,  with  whatever  explanation,  the  Illative 
Sense  is  employed  on  reasonings  from  primary  facts, 
as  well  as  directed  towards  personal  issues.  And 
thus  it  is  the  instrument  of  induction  from  particu- 
lars, and  determines  Avhat  are  general  laws,  and  what 
conclusions  cannot  reach  beyond  bare  probability. 
I  have  already  ventured  to  say  that  our  belief  in  the 
extended  material  world  follows  on  an  inference  from 
our  perception  of  particular  objects  through  their 
phenomena,  as  those  phenomena  actually  come 
before  us,  or  even  (as  I  might  say)  from  our  experi- 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense,        349 

ence  of  the  sensible  phenomena  of  self.  It  is  by  the 
Illative  Sense  that  we  come  to  this  conclusion,  which 
no  logic  can  reach ;  and  so  again,  it  is  by  the  Illative 
Sense  that  Ave  reason  out,  from  the  data  we  possess, 
that  nature  is  uniform,  and  it  is  by  a  defect  in  that 
sense,  that  we  go  on  farther  to  pronounce,  if  Ave 
pronounce,  the  laAvs  of  nature  to  be  invariable.  Its 
range  then  is  commensurate  Avith  the  actual  range  of 
our  intellect,  till  w^e  arrive  at  experiences  of  what- 
ever kind ;  and,  even  as  regards  experiences,  it  is  of 
use  in  discriminating  real  from  apparent,  in  resolving 
apparent  into  their  elements,  and  in  determining  the 
value  and  application  of  those  which  are  real.  It 
must  be  recollected  too,  that  the  first  springs  of 
thought  are  so  obscure,  that  at  times  experiences 
and  reasonings  may  be  indistinguishable  from  each 
other ;  and  sometimes  it  may  be  impossible  to  say 
Avhether  an  apparent  first  principle  is  an  elementary 
truth,  or  rather  the  exhibition  of  some  sensation  or 
sentiment  in  the  shape  in  Avhich  the  Illative  Sense 
represents  it  to  us. 

Hence  it  is,  that  nothing  I  have  been  saying 
about  the  instrumental  character  or  the  range  of  the 
IllatiA^e  Sense,  interferes  Avith  its  being,  as  I  have 
considered  it,  a  personal  gift  or  habit ;  for,  being  in 
fact  ever  embodied  in  some  definite  subject-matter,  it 
is  personal  because  the  discernment  of  the  principles 
connected  with  that  subject-matter  is  personal  also. 
Certainly,  hoAvever  Ave  account  for  it,  Avhether  Ave 
say  that  one  man  is  beloAv  the  level  of  nature,  or 
another  above  it,  so  it  is  that  men,  taken  at  random, 
differ  Avidely  from  each  other  in  their  perception  of 
the  first  elements  of  religion,  duty,  philosophy,  the 


350  The  Illative  Sense. 

science  of  life,  and  taste,  not  to  speak  here  of  the 
differences  in  quality  and  vigor  of  the  Illative  Sense 
itself,  comparing  man  with  man.  Every  one,  in  the 
ultimate  resolution  of  his  intellectual  faculties,  stands 
by  himself,  whatever  he  may  have  in  common  with 
others  ;  and  One  only  is  his  ultimate  judge.  Not  as 
if  there  were  not  an  objective  standard  of  truth ;  but 
that  individuals,  whether  by  their  own  fault  or  not, 
variously  apprehend  it.  Thus  one  man  deduces 
from  his  moral  sense  the  presence  of  a  Moral  Gover- 
nor, and  another  does  not :  in  each  case  there  may  be 
an  exercise,  and  a  sound  exercise,  of  the  illative  sense ; 
but  the  one  recognizes  the  principle  of  conscience  in 
his  moral  sense,  and  the  other  does  not  recognize  it, 
— the  illative  sense  of  the  one  is  employed  upon  and 
informed  by  the  emotions  of  hope  and  fear  and  the 
sense  of  sin,  whereas  the  other  discerns  the  distinc- 
tion of  right  and  wrong  in  no  other  wa}^  than  he 
distinguishes  light  from  darkness,  or  beautifulness 
from  deformity.  That  is  (identifying  the  apprehen- 
sion of  the  subject-matter  with  the  faculty  using  it), 
we  might  say  that  the  one  man  had  the  Religious 
Sense,  and  the  other  the  Moral. 

Thus  the  Illative  Sense  has  its  exercise  in  the 
starting-points  as  well  as  in  the  final  results  of 
thought ;  but  not  only  so,  but  further  still,  whenever 
an  inquiry  or  discussion  is  long  and  complex,  then 
it  is  ever  in  request,  and  exerts  an  influence  at  every 
turn,  in  relation  to  those  various  affluents  of  argu- 
ment, which  are  continually  flowing  in,  and  augment- 
ing the  volume  and  the  force  of  the  whole  in  its  way 
to  a  final  conclusion.  Any  investigation  whatever, 
which  we  light  upon,  will  suffice  to  show  how  impos- 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense,         351 

sible  it  is  to  apply  the  cumbrous  apparatus  of  verbal 
reasoning  to  its  continuous  necessities,  and  how 
imperative  it  is  to  fall  back  upon  that  native  good 
sense  (that  is,  the  action  of  our  illative  judgment 
upon  our  personal  view  of  things)  which  legitimately 
trusts  itself,  because  there  is  nothing  else  given  to  it 
to  trust. 

There  has  been,  for  instance,  a  great  deal  written 
of  late  years,  on  the  subject  of  the  state  of  Greece  and 
Rome  during  the  pre-historic  period ;  let  us  say 
before  the  Olympiads  in  Greece,  and  the  war  with 
Pyrrhus  as  regards  Rome.  Now,  in  a  question  like 
this,  it  is  plain  that  the  inquirer  has  first  of  all  to 
decide  on  the  point  from  which  he  is  to  start  in  the 
presence  of  the  received  accounts;  on  what  side, 
from  what  quarter  he  is  to  approach  them  ;  on  what 
principles  his  discussion  is  to  be  conducted  ;  what  he 
is  to  assume,  what  opinions  or  objections  he  is  sum- 
marily to  put  aside  as  nugatory,  what  arguments, 
and  when,  he  is  to  consider  as  apposite,  what  false 
issues  are  to  be  avoided,  when  the  state  of  his  areu- 
ments  is  ripe  for  a  conclusion.  Is  he  to  commence 
with  absolutely  discarding  all  that  has  hitherto  been 
received  ;  or  to  retain  it  in  outline  ;  or  to  make  selec- 
tions from  it;  or  to  consider  and  interpret  it  as 
mythical,  or  as  allegorical ;  or  to  hold  so  much  to  be 
trustworthy,  or  at  least  of  prima  facie  authority,  as 
he  cannot  actually  disprove ;  or  never  to  destroy 
except  in  proportion  as  he  can  construct  ?  Then,  as 
to  the  kind  of  arguments  suitable  or  admissible,  how 
far  are  tradition,  analogy,  isolated  monuments  and 
records,  vague  reports,  legends,  the  facts  or  saying 
of  later  times,  language,  popular  proverbs,  to  tell  in 


352  The  Illative  Sense, 

the  inquir}^  ?  what  are  marks  of  truth,  Avhat  of  false- 
hood, what  is  probable,  what  suspicious,  what  pro- 
mises well  for  discriminating  facts  from  fictions  ? 
Then,  arguments  have  to  be  balanced  against  each 
other,  and  then  lastly  the  decision  is  to  be  made, 
whether  any  conclusion  at  all  can  be  drawn,  or 
whether  any  till  certain  issues  are  tried  and  settled, 
or  whether  a  probable  conclusion  or  a  certain.  It  is 
plain  how  incessant  will  be  the  call  here  or  there  for 
the  exercise  of  a  definitive  judgment,  and  how  that 
judgment  will  be  in  accordance  with  the  intellectual 
complexion  of  the  writer. 

This  might  be  illustrated  at  great  length,  were  it 
necessary,  from  the  writings  of  any  of  those  able  men, 
whose  names  are  so  well  known  in  connexion  with 
the  subject  I  have  instanced ;  such  as  Niebuhr,  Mr. 
Clinton,  Sir  George  Lewis,  Mr.  Grote,  and  Colonel 
Mure.  These  authors  have  severally  views  of  their 
own  on  the  period  of  history  which  they  have  select- 
ed for  investigation,  and  they  are  too  learned  and 
logical  not  to  know  and  to  use  to  the  utmost  the 
testimonies  by  which  the  facts  which  they  investi- 
gate are  to  be  ascertained.  Why  then  do  they  differ 
so  much  from  each  other,  whether  in  their  estimate 
of  those  testimonies  or  of  those  facts?  because  that 
estimate  is  simply  their  own,  coming  of  their  own 
judgment;  and  that  judgment  coming  of  assump- 
tions of  their  own,  explicit  or  implicit;  and  those 
assumptions  spontaneously  issuing  out  of  the  state 
of  thought  respectively  belonging  to  each  of  them  ; 
and  all  these  successive  processes  of  minute  reason- 
ing superintended  and  directed  by  an  intellectual  in- 
strument far  too  subtle  and  spiritual  to  be  scientific. 


The  Rangx  of  the  Illative  Sense.         353 

What  was   Niebuhr's   idea  of  the  office   he  had 
undertaken  ?     I  suppose  it  was  to  accept  what  he 
found  in  the  historians  of  Rome,  to  interrogate  it,  to 
take  it  to  pieces,  to  put  it  together  again,  to  re- 
arrange and  interpret  it.     Prescription  together  with 
internal  consistency  was  to  him  the  evidence  of  fact, 
and  if  he  pulled  down  he  felt  he  was  bound  to  build 
up.     Very  different  is  the  spirit  of  another  school  of 
writers,  with  whom  prescription  is  nothing,  and  who 
will  admit  no  evidence  which  has  not  first  proved  its 
right  to  be  admitted.    ''  We  are  able,"  says  Niebuhr, 
"  to  trace  the  history  of  the  Roman  constitution  back 
to  the  beginning  of  the  Commonwealth,  as  accurately 
as  we  wish,  and  even  more  perfectly  than  the  history 
of  many  portions  of  the  middle  ages."      But  ''  we 
may  rejoice,"  says  Sir  George  Lewis,  "  that  the  in- 
genuity or  learning  of  Niebuhr  should  have  enabled 
him  to  advance  many  novel  hypotheses  and  conjec- 
tures respecting  the  form  of  the  early  constitution  of 
Rome,  but,  unless  he  can  support  those  hypotheses 
by  sufficient  evidence,  they  are  not  entitled  to  our 
belief"     ''  Niebuhr,"  says  an  intimate  relative  of  my 
own,  "  often  expresses  much  contempt  for  mere  in- 
credulous criticism  and  negative  conclusions;   .    .   . 
yet  wisely  to  disbelieve  is  our  first  grand  requisite 
in  dealings  with  materials  of  mixed  worth."     And 
Sir  George  Lewis  again,  ''  It  may  be  said  that  there 
is  scarcely  any  of  the  leading  conclusions  of  Niebuhr 's 
work  which  has  not  been  impugned  by  some  subse- 
quent writer." 

Again,  "  it  is  true,"  says  Niebuhr,  "  that  the  Trojan 
war  belongs  to  the  region  of  fable,  yet  undeniably  it 
has  an  historical  foundation."    But  Mr.  Grote  writes, 


354  The  Illative  Sense. 

^'  If  we  are  asked  whether  the  Trojan  war  is  not  a 
legend  .  .  .  raised  upon  a  basis  of  truth,  .  .  .  our  answer 
must  be,  that,  as  the  possibiHty  of  it  cannot  be  denied, 
so  neither  can  the  reahty  of  it  be  affirmed."  On  the 
other  hand,  Mr.  Clinton  lays  down  the  general  rule, 
"  We  may  acknowledge  as  real  persons,  all  those 
whom  there  is  no  reason  for  rejecting.  The  pre- 
sumption is  in  favor  of  the  early  tradition,  if  no  argu- 
ment can  be  brought  to  overthrov/  it."  Thus  he 
lodges  the  oniis  probandi  with  those  who  impugn  the 
received  accounts ;  but  Mr.  Grote  and  Sir  George 
Lewis  throw  it  upon  those  who  defend  them.  "  His- 
torical evidence,"  says  the  latter,  '■^  is  founded  on  the 
testimony  of  credible  witnesses."  And  again,  "■  It  is 
perpetually  assumed  in  practice,  that  historical  evi- 
dence is  different  in  its  nature  from  other  sorts  of 
evidence.  This  laxity  seems  to  be  justified  by  the 
doctrine  of  taking  the  best  evidence  which  can  be 
obtained.  The  object  of  [my]  inquiry  will  be  to 
apply  to  the  early  Roman  history  the  same  rules  of 
evidence  which  are  applied  by  common  consent  to 
modern  history."  Far  less  severe  is  the  judgment  of 
Colonel  Mure :  *'  Where  no  positive  historical  proof 
is  affirmable,  the  balance  of  historical  probability 
must  reduce  itself  very  much  to  a  reasonable  indul- 
gence to  the  weight  of  national  conviction,  and  a 
deference  to  the  testimony  of  the  earliest  native 
authorities."  ''  Reasonable  indulgence  "  to  popular 
belief,  "  deference "  to  ancient  tradition,  are  princi- 
ples of  writing  history  abhorrent  to  the  judicial  tem- 
per of  Sir  George  Lewis.  He  considers  the  Avords 
*' reasonable  indulgence"  to  be  ''ambiguous,"  and 
observes  that  ''  the  very  point  which  cannot  be  taken 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense.         355 

for  granted,  and  in  which  writers  differ,  is,  as  to  the 
extent  to  which  contemporary  attestation  may  be 
presumed  without  direct  and  positive  proof,  .  .  .  the 
extent  to  which  the  existence  of  a  popular  beHef  con- 
cerning a  supposed  matter  of  fact  authorizes  the 
inference  that  it  grew  out  of  authentic  testimony." 
And  Mr.  Grote  observes  to  the  same  effect :  "  The 
word  tradition  is  an  equivocal  word,  and  begs  the 
whole  question.  It  is  tacitly  understood  to  imply  a 
tale  descriptive  of  some  real  matter  of  fact,  taking 
rise  at  the  time  when  the  fact  happened,  originally 
accurate,  but  corrupted  by  oral  transmission."  And 
Lewis,  who  quotes  the  passage,  adds,  ''  This  tacit 
tuiderstanding  is  the  key-stone  of  the  whole  argu- 
ment." 

I  am  not  contrasting  these  various  opinions  of  able 
men,  who  have  given  themselves  to  historical  research, 
as  if  it  were  any  reflection  on  them  that  they  differ 
from  each  other.  It  is  the  cause  of  their  differing  on 
which  I  wish  to  insist.  Taking  the  facts  by  them- 
selves, probably  these  authors  would  come  to  no  con- 
clusion at  all;  it  is  the  "tacit  understandings"  which 
Mr.  Grote  speaks  of,  the  vague  and  impalpable  no- 
tions of  ''  reasonableness  "  on  his  own  side  as  well  as 
on  that  of  others,  which  both  make  conclusions  possi- 
ble, and  are  the  pledge  of  their  being  contradictory. 
The  conclusions  vary  with  the  particular  writer,  for 
each  writes  from  his  own  point  of  view  and  with  his 
own  principles,  and  these  admit  of  no  common  mea- 
sure. 

This  in  fact  is  their  own  account  of  the  matter: 
*'  The  results  of  speculative  historical  inquiry,"  says 
Colonel  Mure,  "  can  rarely  amount  to  more  than  fail 


2,3^  The  Illative  Sense, 

presumption  of  the  reality  of  the  events  in  question^ 
as  limited  to  their  general  substance,  not  as  extend- 
ing to  their  details.     Nor  can  there  consequently  be 
expected  in  the  minds  of  different  inquirers  any  such 
unity  regarding  the  precise  degree  of  reality,  as  may 
frequently  exist  in  respect  to  events  attested  by  docu- 
mentary evidence."     Mr.  Grote  corroborates  this  de- 
cision by  the  striking  instance  of  the  diversity  of  ex- 
isting opinions  concerning  the  Homeric  Poems.  ''  Our 
means  of  knowledge,"  he  says,  "are  so  limited,  that 
no  one  can  produce  arguments  sufficiently  cogent  to 
contend  against  opposing  preconceptions,  and  it  cre- 
ates a  painful  sensation  of  diffidence,  when  vre  read 
the  expressions  of  equal  and  absolute  persuasion  with 
which  the  two  opposite  conclusions  have  both  been 
advanced."     And  again,   ''there   is   a   difference   of 
opinion  among  the  best  critics,  which   is   probably 
not  destined  to  be  adjusted,  since  so  much  depends 
partly  upon  critical  feeling,  partly  upon  the  general 
reasonings  in  respect  to  ancient  epical  unity,  with 
which  a  man  sits  down  to  the  study."      Exactly  so; 
every   one   has   his  own   "  critical  feeling,"   his    an- 
tecedent    ''reasonings,"     and    in    consequence    his 
own    "absolute    persuasion;"     and     who,    whether 
stranger  or  friend,   is   to  reach  and    affect    what  is 
so  intimately  bound  up  Avith  the  mental  constitution 
of  each  ? 

Hence  the  categorical  contradictions  between  one 
writer  and  another  Avhich  abound.  Colonel  Mure 
appeals  in  defence  of  an  historical  thesis  to  the  "  fact 
of  the  Hellenic  confederacy  combining  for  the  adop- 
tion of  a  common  national  system  of  chronology  in 
776  B.C."     Mr.  Grote  rephes :  "Nothing  is  more  at 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Se7ise.         357 

variance  with  my  conception/'— he  just  now  spoke  of 
the   preconceptions  of  others, — ''  of  the  state  of  the 
Hellenic  world  in  Jj6  B.C.,  than  the  idea  of  a  combina- 
tion among  all  the  members  of  the  race  for  any  pur- 
pose,   much    more   for   the   purpose   of  adopting   a 
common  national  system  of  chronology."     Colonel 
Mure  speaks  of  the  ''  bigoted  Athenian  public;"  Mr. 
Grote  replies  that  ''  no  public  ever  less  deserved  the 
epithet  of  '  bigoted  '   than  the  Athenian."     Colonel 
Mure  also  speaks  of  Mr.  Grote's  ''  arbitrarj^  hypothe- 
sis;" and  again  (in  Mr.  Grote's  words),  of  his  ''un- 
reasonable scepticism."    He  cannot  disprove  by  mere 
argument  the  conclusions  of  Mr.  Grote  ;  he  can  but 
have  recourse  to  a  personal  criticism.     He  virtually 
says,   "  We  differ  in  our  personal  view   of  things." 
Men  become  personal  when  logic  fails  ;  it  is  their 
mode  of  appealing  to  their  own  primary  elements  of 
thought,   and    their   own   illative  sense,  against  the 
principles  and  the  judgment  of  another. 

I  have  already  touched  upon  Niebuhr's  method  of 
investigation,  and  Sir  George  Lewis's  dislike  of  it : 
it  supplies  us  with  as  apposite  an  instance  of  a  differ- 
ence in  first  principles  as  is  afforded  by  Mr.  Grote 
and  Colonel  Mure.  "  The  main  characteristic  of  his 
history,"  says  Lewis,  "  is  the  extent  to  which  he  re- 
lies upon  internal  evidence,  and  upon  the  indications 
afforded  by  the  narrative  itself,  independently  of  the 
testimony  of  its  truth."  And,  ''  ingenuity  and  labor 
can  produce  nothing  but  hypotheses  and  conjectures, 
which  may  be  supported  by  analogies,  but  can  never 
rest  upon  the  solid  foundation  of  proof."  And  it  is 
undeniable,  that,  rightly  or  wrongly,  disdaining  the 
scepticism  of  the  mere  critic,  Niebuhr  does  conscious- 


35^  The  Illative  Sense. 

ly  proceed  by  the  high  path  of  divination.  "  For 
my  own  part,"  he  says,  "  I  divine  that,  since  the  cen- 
sorship of  Fabius  and  Decius  falls  in  the  same  year, 
that  Cn.  Flavins  became  mediator  between  his  own 
class  and  the  higher  orders."  Lewis  considers 
this  to  be  a  process  of  guessing ;  and  says,  ''  In- 
stead of  employing  those  tests  of  credibility  Avhich 
are  consistently  applied  to  modern  history,"  Nie- 
buhr,  and  his  followers,  and  most  of  his  oppo- 
nents, ''  attempt  to  guide  their  judgment  by  the 
indication  of  internal  evidence,  and  assume  that 
the  truth  is  discovered  by  an  occult  faculty  of 
historical  divination."  Niebuhr  defends  himself 
thus  :  "■  The  real  geographer  has  a  tact  which  deter- 
mines his  judgment  and  choice  among  different 
statements.  He  is  able  from  isolated  statements  to 
draw  inferences  respecting  things  that  are  unknown, 
which  are  closely  approximate  to  results  obtained 
from  observation  of  facts,  and  may  supply  their  place. 
He  is  able  with  limited  data  to  form  an  image  of 
things  which  no  eye-witness  has  described."  He  ap- 
plies this  to  himself.  The  principle  set  forth  in  this 
passage  is  obviously  the  same  as  I  should  put  forward 
myself;  but  Sir  George  Lewis,  though  not  simply 
denying  it  as  a  principle,  makes  little  account  of  it, 
when  applied  to  historical  research.  ''  It  is  not 
enough,"  he  says,  ''  for  an  historian  to  claim  the  pos- 
session of  a  retrospective  second-sight,  which  is  denied 
to  the  rest  of  the  world — of  a  mysterious  doctrine,  re- 
vealed only  to  the  initiated."  And  he  pronounces, 
that  "  the  history  of  Niebuhr  has  opened  more  ques- 
tions than  it  has  closed,  and  it  has  set  in  motion  a 
large  body  of  combatants,  whose  mutual  variances 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense,         359 

are  not  at  present  likely  to  be  settled  by  deference  to 
a  common  principle."  "^ 

We  see  from  the  above  extracts  how  a  controver- 
sy, such  as  that  to  which  they  belong,  is  carried  on 
from  starting-points,  and  with  collateral  aids,  not 
formally  proved,  but  more  or  less  assumed,  the  pro- 
cess of  assumption  lying  in  the  action  of  the  Illative 
Sense,  applied  to  primary  elements  of  thought  re- 
spectively congenial  to  the  disputants.  Not  that 
explicit  argumentation  on  these  minute  or  minor, 
though  important,  points  is  not  sometimes  possible 
to  a  certain  extent ;  but  it  is  too  unwieldy  an  expe- 
dient for  a  constantly  recurring  need,  even  when  it 
is  tolerably  exact.  Should  it  be  objected,  apropos  of 
the  particular  case,  that  the  instinctive  reasoning,  on 
which  I  have  been  dwelling,  is  not  worth  much,  since 
it  has  not  brought  disputants  into  agreement,  I  an- 
swer that  I  profess  to  be  stating  facts,  not  devising 
an  optimism. ;  also,  that  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  Illa- 
tive Sense,  that  men  differ  in  first  principles.  More- 
over, it  must  be  recollected,  that  the  controversy  is 
still  in  its  beginnings ;  and  there  is  no  reason  for  de- 
ciding that  it  will  not  lead  in  the  event  to  a  unani- 
mous conclusion  of  some  kind,  that  is,  either  to  an 
assent  to  one  particular  view  of  the  history  as  the 
true  one,  or  else  to  a  conviction  that  no  true  view  is 
attainable,  the  existing  data  for  proof  being  insuffi- 


*  Niebuhr,  "Roman  History,"  vol,  i.  p.  177;  vol.  iii.  pp.  262,  318, 
322.  "  Lectures,"  vol.  iii.  App.  p.  xxii.  Lewis,  "  Roman  HistorjV' 
vol.  i.  pp.  11-17  ;  vol.  ii.  pp.  489-492.  F.W.  Newman,  "  Regal  Rome," 
p.  V.  Grote,  "  Greece,"  vol.  ii.  pp.  67,  68,  218,  630-639.  Mure, "  Greece,*' 
vol.  iii.  p.  503  ;  vol.  iv.  p.  318.     Clinton,  ap.  Grote,  supra. 


360  The  Illative  Sense. 

cient   to  overcome  the   intellectual  contrarieties   of 
individual  disputants. 

In  illustration,  I  will  mention  under  separate  heads 
some  of  those  elementary  contrarieties  of  opinion,  on 
which  the  Illative  Sense  has  to  act,  discovering  them, 
following  them  out,  defending  or  resisting  them,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

I.  As  to  the  statement  of  the  case.  This  depends 
on  the  particular  aspect  under  which  we  view  a  sub- 
ject, that  is,  on  the  abstraction  which  forms  our 
representative  notion  of  what  it  is.  Sciences  are  only 
so  many  distinct  aspects  of  nature;  sometimes  sug- 
gested by  nature  itself,  sometimes  created  by  the 
mind,  (i)  One  of  the  simplest  and  broadest  aspects 
under  which  to  view  the  physical  world,  is  that  of  a 
system  of  final  causes,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  of  initial 
or  effective  causes.  Bacon,  having  it  in  view  to  ex- 
tend our  power  over  nature,  adopted  the  latter.  He 
took  firm  hold  of  the  idea  of  causation  (in  the  com- 
mon sense  of  the  word)  as  contrasted  to  that  of  design, 
refusing  to  mix  up  the  ideas  in  one  inquiry,  and  de- 
nouncing such  traditional  interpretations  of  facts,  as 
did  but  obscure  the  simplicity  of  the  aspect  necessary 
for  his  purpose.  He  saw  what  others  before  him 
might  have  seen  in  what  they  saw,  but  did  not  see 
as  he  saw  it.  In  this  achievement  of  intellect,  which 
has  been  so  fruitful  in  results,  lies  his  genius  and  his 
fame. 

(2)  So  again,  to  refer  to  a  very  different  subject- 
matter,  we  often  hear  of  the  exploits  of  some  great 
lawyer,  judge  or  advocate,  who  is  able  in  perplexed 
cases,  when  common  minds  see  nothing  but  a  hope- 


The  Ra7ige  of  the  Illative  Sejtse.         361 

less  heap  of  facts,  foreign  or  contrary  to  each  other, 
to  detect  the  principle  which  rightly  interprets  the 
riddle,  and,  to  the  admiration  of  all  hearers,  converts 
a  chaos  into  an  orderly  and  luminous  whole. 

(3)  On  the  other  hand,  such  aspects  are  often  un- 
real, as  being  mere  exhibitions  of  ingenuity,  not  of 
true  originality  of  mind.  This  is  especially  the  case 
in  what  are  called  philosophical  views  of  history. 
Such  seems  to  me  the  theory  advocated  in  a  work  of 
great  learning,  vigor,  and  acuteness,  Warburton's 
''  Divine  Legation  of  Moses."  1  do  not  call  Gibbon 
merely  ingenious ;  still  his  account  of  the  rise  of 
Christianity  is  the  mere  subjective  view  of  one  who 
could  not  enter  into  its  depth  and  power. 

(4)  The  aspect  under  which  we  view  things  is 
often  intensely  personal ;  nay,  even  awfully  so,  con- 
sidering that,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  does  not 
bring  home  its  idiosyncrasy  either  to  ourselves  or  to 
others.  Each  of  us  looks  at  the  world  in  his  own 
way,  and  does  not  know  that  perhaps  it  is  character- 
istically his  own.  This  is  the  case  even  as  regards 
the  senses.  Some  men  have  little  perception  of 
colors ;  some  recognize  one  or  two ;  to  some  men  two 
contrary  colors,  as  red  and  green,  are  one  and  the 
same.  How  poorly  can  we  appreciate  the  beauties 
of  nature,  if  our  eyes  discern,  on  the  face  of  things, 
only  an  Indian-ink  or  a  drab  creation ! 

(5)  So  again,  as  regards  form  :  each  of  us  abstracts 
the  relation  of  line  to  line  in  his  own  personal  way, — 
as  one  man  might  apprehend  a  curve  as  convex,  an- 
other as  concave.  Of  course,  as  in  the  case  of  a 
curve,  there  may  be  a  limit  to  possible  aspects ;  but 
still,  even  when  we  agree  together,  it  is  not  perhaps 


362  The  Illative  Sense. 

that  we  learn  one  from  another,  or  fall  under  any  law 
of  agreement,  but  that  our  separate  idiosyncrasies 
happen  to  concur.  I  fear  I  ma}^  seem  trifling,  if  I 
allude  to  an  illustration  which  has  ever  had  a  great 
force  with  me,  and  that  for  the  very  reason  it  is  so 
trivial  and  minute.  Children,  learning  to  read,  are 
sometimes  presented  with  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
turned  into  the  figures  of  men  in  various  attitudes. 
It  is  curious  to  observe  from  such  representations, 
how  differently  the  shape  of  the  letters  strikes  differ- 
ent minds.  In  consequence  I  have  continually  asked 
the  question  in  a  chance  company,  which  way  certain 
of  the  great  letters  look,  to  the  right  or  to  the  left ; 
and  while  nearly  every  one  present  had  his  own  clear 
view,  so  clear  that  he  could  not  endure  the  opposite 
view,  still  I  have  generally  found  that  one  half  of  the 
party  considered  the  letters  in  question  to  look  to  the 
left,  and  the  other  half  thought  they  looked  to  the 
right. 

(6)  This  variety  of  interpretation  in  the  very  ele- 
ments of  outlines  seems  to  throw  light  upon  other 
cognate  differences  between  one  man  and  another. 
If  they  look  at  the  mere  letters  of  the  alphabet  so 
differently,  we  may  understand  how  it  is  they  form 
such  distinct  judgments  upon  handwriting  ;  nay,  how 
some  men  may  have  a  talent  for  decyphering  from  it 
the  intellectual  and  moral  character  of  the  writer, 
which  others  have  not.  Another  thought  that  occurs 
is,  that  perhaps  here  lies  the  explanation  why  it  is 
that  family  likenesses  are  so  variously  recognized, 
and  how  mistakes  in  identity  may  be  dangerously 
frequent. 

(7)  If  we  so  variously  apprehend  the  familiar  objects 


The  Raiige  of  the  Illative  Sense,        2i^2) 

of  sense,  still  more  various,  we  may  suppose,  are  the 
aspects  and  associations  attached  by  us,  one  with  an- 
other, to  intellectual  objects.  I  do  not  say  we  differ 
in  the  objects  themselves,  but  that  we  may  have  inter- 
minable differences  as  to  their  relations  and  circum- 
stances. I  have  heard  say  (again  to  take  a  trifling 
matter)  that  at  the  beginning  of  this  century,  it  was  a 
subject  of  serious,  nay,  of  angry  controversy,  whether 
it  began  with  January  1800,  or  January  1801.  Argu- 
ment, which  ought,  if  in  any  case,  to  have  easily 
brought  the  question  to  a  decision,  was  but  sprinkling 
water  upon  a  flame.  I  am  not  clear  that,  if  it  could 
be  fairly  started  now,  it  would  not  lead  to  similar 
results  ;  certainly  I  know  those  who  studiously  with- 
draw from  giving  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  when  it 
is  accidentally  mooted,  from  their  experience  of  the 
eager  feeling  which  it  is  sure  to  excite  in  some  one 
or  other  who  is  present.  This  eagerness  can  only 
arise  from  an  overpowering  sense  that  the  truth  of 
the  matter  lies  in  the  one  alternative,  and  not  in  the 
other. 

These  instances,  because  they  are  so  casual,  sug- 
gest how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  men  differ  so  Avidely 
from  each  other  in  religious  and  moral  perceptions. 
Here,  I  say  again,  it  does  not  prove  that  there  is 
no  objective  truth,  because  not  all  men  are  in  pos- 
session of  it ;  or  that  we  are  not  responsible  for  the 
associations  which  we  attach,  and  the  relations  which 
we  assign,  to  the  objects  of  the  intellect.  But  this 
it  does  suggest  to  us,  that  there  is  something  deeper 
in  our  differences  than  the  accident  of  external  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  that  we  need  the  interposition  of  a 
Power   greater  than   human   teaching   and   human 


364  The  Illative  Sense. 

argument  to  make  our  beliefs  true  and  our  minds 
one. 

2.  Next  I  come  to  the  assumption  of  first  princi- 
ples in  a  course  of  reasoning,  and  the  exclusion  of 
propositions,  of  whatever  kind.  Unless  Ave  had  the 
right,  when  we  pleased,  of  ruling  that  propositions 
were  irrelevant  or  absurd,  I  do  not  see  how  we 
could  conduct  an  argument  at  all ;  our  way  would 
be  simply  blocked  up  by  extravagant  principles  and 
theories,  gratuitous  hypotheses,  false  issues,  unsup- 
ported statements,  and  incredible  facts.  There  are 
those  who  have  treated  the  history  of  Abraham  as  an 
astronomical  record,  and  have  spoken  of  our  Ador- 
able Saviour  as  the  sun  in  Aries.  Arabian  Mytho- 
logy has  changed  Solomon  into  a  mighty  wizard. 
Noah  has  been  considered  the  patriarch  of  the 
Chmese  people.  The  ten  tribes  have  been  pro- 
nounced still  to  live  in  their  descendants,  the  Red 
Indians ;  or  to  be  the  ancestors  of  the  Goths  and 
Vandals,  and  thereby  of  the  present  European  races. 
Some  have  conjectured  that  the  ApoUos  of  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles  was  Apollonius  Tyaneus.  Able  men 
have  reasoned  out,  almost  against  their  Avill,  that 
Adam  was  a  negro.  These  propositions,  and  many 
others  of  various  kinds,  we  should  think  ourselves 
justified  in  passing  over,  if  we  Avere  engaged  in  a 
work  on  sacred  history ;  and  there  are  others,  on  the 
contrary,  Avhich  Ave  should  assume  as  true  by  our 
OAvn  right,  and  Avithout  Avhich  Ave  could  not  set 
about  or  carry  on  our  Avork. 

(i)  However,  the  right  of  making  assumptions 
has  been  disputed ;  but,  Avhen  the  objections  are 
examined,  I  think  they  only  go  to  shoAV  that  Ave  haA^e 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense.        365 

no  right  in  argument  to  make  any  assumption  we 
please.  Thus,  in  historical  researches,  it  seems  fair 
to  say  that  no  testimony  should  be  received,  except 
such  as  comes  to  us  from  competent  witnesses,  while 
it  is  not  unfair  to  urge,  on  the  other  side,  that  tradi- 
tion, though  unauthenticated,  being  (what  is  called) 
in  possession,  has  a  prescription  in  its  favor,  and 
m2^y,pjHjJid  facie,  or  provisionally,  be  received.  Here 
are  the  materials  of  a  fair  dispute ;  but  there  are 
writers  who  seem  to  have  gone  far  beyond  this  rea- 
sonable scepticism,  laying  down  as  a  general  propo- 
sition that  we  have  no  right  in  philosophy  to  make 
any  assumption  whatever,  and  that  we  ought  to 
begin  with  a  universal  doubt.  This,  however,  is  of 
all  assumptions  the  greatest,  and  to  forbid  them  is  to 
forbid  it.  Doubt  itself  is  a  positive  state,  and  implies 
a  definite  habit  of  mind,  and  thereby  necessarily 
involves  a  system  of  principles  and  doctrines  of  its 
own.  Again,  if  nothing  is  to  be  assumed,  what  is 
our  very  method  of  reasoning  but  an  assumption? 
and  what  our  nature  itself?  The  very  sense  of  plea- 
sure and  pain,  Avhich  is  one  of  the  most  intimate 
portions  of  ourselves,  inevitably  translates  itself  into 
intellectual  assumptions. 

Of  the  two,  I  would  rather  have  to  maintain  that 
we  ought  to  begin  with  believing  every  thing  that 
is  offered  to  our  acceptance,  than  that  it  is  our  duty 
to  doubt  of  every  thing.  This,  indeed,  seems  the 
true  way  of  learning.  In  that  case,  we  soon  discover 
and  discard  what  is  contradictory  ;  and  error  having 
always  some  portion  of  truth  in  it,  and  the  truth 
having  a  reality  which  error  has  not,  we  may  expect, 
that  when  there  is  an  honest  purpose  and  fair  talents, 


.^66  The  Illative  Sense. 


o 


we  shall  somehow  make  our  way  forward,  the  error 
falling  off  from  the  mind,  and  the  truth  developing 
and  occupying  it.  Thus  it  is  that  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion is  reached,  as  we  see,  by  inquirers  from  all 
points  of  the  compass,  as  if  it  mattered  not  where  a 
man  began,  so  that  he  had  an  eye  and  a  heart  for  the 
truth. 

(2)  An  argument  has  been  often  put  forward  by 
unbelievers,  I  think  by  Paine,  to  this  effect,  that  "  a 
revelation,  which  is  to  be  received  as  true,  ought  to 
be  written  on  the  sun."  This  appeals  to  the  com- 
mon-sense of  the  many  with  great  force,  and  implies 
the  assumption  of  a  principle  which  Butler,  indeed, 
would  not  grant,  and  would  consider  unphilosophical, 
and  yet  I  think  something  may  be  said  in  its  favor. 
Whether  abstractedly  defensible  or  not,  Catholic 
populations  would  not  be  averse,  vuitatis  viutandis^ 
to  adniitting  it.  Till  these  last  centuries,  the  Visible 
Church  was,  at  least  to  her  children,  the  light  of  the 
world,  as  conspicuous  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens  ;  and 
the  Creed  was  written  on  her  forehead,  and  pro- 
claimed through  her  voice,  by  a  teaching  as  precise 
as  it  was  emphatical;  in  accordance  with  the  text, 
''  Who  is  she  that  looketh  forth  at  the  dawn,  fair  as 
the  moon,  bright  as  the  sun,  terrible  as  an  army  set  in 
array?"  It  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  miracle, 
doubtless  ;  but  in  its  effect,  nay,  in  its  circumstances, 
it  was  little  less.  Of  course  I  would  not  allow  that 
the  Church  fails  in  this  manifestation  of  the  truth  now, 
any  more  than  in  former  times,  though  the  clouds 
have  come  over  the  sun ;  for  what  she  has  lost  in 
her  appeal  to  the  imagination,  she  has  gained  in  phi- 
losophical cogency,  by  the  evidence  of  her  persistent 


The  Ra7ige  of  the  Illative  Sense.        367 

vitality.  So  far  is  clear,  that  if  Paine's  aphorism  has 
a  prima  facie  force  against  Christianity,  it  owes  this 
advantage  to  the  miserable  deeds  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries. 

(3)  Another  conflict  of  first  principles  or  assump- 
tions, which  have  often  been  implicit  on  either  side, 
has  been  carried  through  in  our  day,  and  relates  to 
the  end  and  scope  of  civil  society,  that  is,  whether 
government  and  legislation  ought  to  be  of  a  religious 
character,  or  not ;  v/hether  the  state  has  a  con- 
science ;  Avhether  Christianity  is  the  law  of  the  land  ; 
whether  the  magistrate,  in  punishing  offenders,  exer- 
cises a  retributive  office  or  a  corrective  ;  or  whether 
the  whole  structure  of  society  is  raised  upon  the 
base  of  secular  expediency.  The  relation  of  philoso- 
phy and  the  sciences  to  theology  comes  into  the 
question.  The  old  time-honored  theory  has,  during 
the  last  forty  years,  been  vigorously  contending  with 
the  new  ;  and  the  new  is  in  the  ascendant. 

(4)  There  is  another  great  conflict  of  first  princi- 
ples, and  that  among  Christians,  which  has  occupied 
a  large  space  in  our  domestic  history,  during  the  last 
thirty  or  forty  years,  and  that  is  the  controversy 
about  the  Rule  of  Faith.  I  notice  it  as  affording  an 
instance  of  an  assumption  so  deeply  sunk  into  the 
popular  mind,  that  it  is  a  work  of  great  difficulty  to 
obtain  from  its  maintainers  an  acknowledgment 
that  it  is  an  assumption.  That  Scripture  is  the  Rule 
of  Faith  is  in  fact  an  assumption  so  congenial  to  the 
state  of  mind  and  course  of  thought  usual  among 
Protestants,  that  it  seems  to  them  rather  a  truism 
than  a  truth.  If  they  are  in  controversy  with  Catho- 
lics on  any  point  of  faith,  they  at  once  ask,  "  Where 


368  The  Illative  Sense, 


o 


do  you  find  it  in  Scripture?"  and  if  Catholics  reply, 
as  they  must  do,  that  it  is  not  necessarily  in  Scrip- 
ture in  order  to  be  true,  nothing  can  persuade  them 
that  such  an  answer  is  not  an  evasion,  and  a  triumph 
to  themselves.  Yet  it  is  by  no  means  self-evident 
that  all  religious  truth  is  to  be  found  in  a  number  of 
works,  however  sacred,  which  were  written  at  differ- 
ent times,  and  did  not  always  form  one  book ;  and  in 
fact  it  is  a  doctrine  very  hard  to  prove.  So  much 
so,  that  years  ago,  when  I  was  considering  it  from  a 
Protestant  point  of  view,  and  wished  to  defend  it  to 
the  best  of  my  power,  I  was  unable  to  give  any 
better  account  of  it  than  the  following,  which  I  here 
quote  from  its  appositeness  to  my  present  subject. 

''  It  matters  not,"  I  said,  speaking  of  the  first  Pro- 
testants, "whether  or  not  they  only  happened  to 
come  right  on  what,  in  a  logical  point  of  view,  are 
faulty  premisses.  The}^  had  no  time  for  theories  of 
any  kind  ;  and  to  require  theories  at  their  hand  argues 
an  ignorance  of  human  nature,  and  of  the  ways  in 
which  truth  is  struck  out  in  the  course  of  life.  Com- 
mon sense,  chance,  moral  perception,  genius,  the 
great  discoverers  of  principles  do  not  reason.  They 
have  no  arguments,  no  grounds,  they  see  the  truth, 
but  they  do  not  know  how  they  see  it ;  and  if  at  any 
time  they  attempt  to  prove  it,  it  is  as  much  a  matter 
of  experiment  with  them,  as  if  they  had  to  find  a  road 
to  a  distant  mountain,  which  they  see  with  the  eye ; 
and  they  get  entangled,  embarrassed,  and  perchance 
overthrown  in  the  superfluous  endeavor.  It  is  the 
second-rate  men,  though  most  useful  in  their  place, 
who  prove,  reconcile,  finish,  and  explain.  Probably, 
the  popular  feeling  of  the  sixteenth  century  saw  the 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense.        369 

Bible  to  be  the  Word  of  God,  so  as  nothing  else  is 
His  Word,  by  the  power  of  a  strong  sense,  by  a  sort 
of  moral  instinct,  or  by  a  happy  augury."  "'^ 

That  is,  I  considered  the  assumption  an  act  of  the 
Illative  Sense  ; — I  should  now  add,  the  Illative  Sense, 
acting  on  mistaken  elements  of  thought. 

3.  After  the  aspects  in  which  a  question  is  to  be 
viewed,  and  the  principles  on  which  it  is  to  be  con- 
sidered, come  the  arguments  by  which  it  is  decided ; 
among  these  the  most  availing  are  antecedent  reasons, 
because  they  are  in  great  measure  made  by  ourselves 
and  belong  to  our  personal  character,  and  to  these  I 
shall  confine  myself. 

Antecedent  reasoning,  when  negative,  is  safe. 
Thus  no  one  would  say  that,  because  Alexander's  rash 
heroism  is  one  of  the  leading  characteristics  of  his 
history,  therefore  we  are  justified,  except  in  writing 
a  romance,  in  asserting  that  at  a  particular  time  and 
place,  he  distinguished  himself  by  a  certain  exploit 
about  which  history  is  altogether  silent ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  his  notorious  braver}^  would  be  almost 
decisive  against  any  charge  against  him  of  having  on 
a  particular  occasion  acted  as  a  coward. 

In  like  manner,  good  character  goes  far  in  destroy- 
ing the  force  of  even  plausible  charges.  There  is  in- 
deed a  degree  of  evidence  in  support  of  an  allegation, 
against  which  reputation  is  no  defence ;  but  it  must 
be  singularly  strong  to  overcome  an  antecedent  pro- 
bability which  stands  opposed  to  it.  Thus  historical 
personages  or  great  authors,  men  of  high  and  pure 
character,  have  had  imputations  cast  upon  them,  easy 

*  "  Prophetical  Office  of  the  Church,"  pp.  347,  348,  ed.  1837. 


2,70  TJie  Illative  Sense. 

to  make,  difficult  or  impossible  to  meet,  which  are  in- 
dignantly trodden  under  foot  by  all  just  and  sensible 
men,  as  being  as  anti-social  as  they  are  inhuman.  I 
need  not  add  Avhat  a  cruel  and  despicable  part  a  hus- 
band or  a  son  would  play,  who  readily  listened  to  a 
chai-ge  against  his  wife  or  his  father.  Yet  all  this 
being  admitted,  a  great  number  of  cases  remain 
Avhich  are  perplexing,  and  on  which  we  cannot  adjust 
the  claims  of  conflicting  and  heterogeneous  argu- 
ments except  by  the  keen  and  subtle  operation  of  the 
Illative  Sense. 

Butler's  argument  in  his  Analogy  is  such  a  pre- 
sumption used  negatively.  Objection  being  brought 
against  certain  characteristics  of  Christianit}^,  he 
meets  it  by  the  presumption  in  their  favor  derived 
from  their  parallels  as  discoverable  in  the  order  of 
nature,  arguing  that  they  do  not  tell  against  the 
Divine  origin  of  Christianity,  unless  they  tell  against 
the  Divine  origin  of  the  natural  system  also.  But  he 
could  not  adduce  it  as  a  positive  proof  of  the  Divine 
origin  of  the  Christian  doctrines  that  they  had 
their  parallels  in  nature,  or  at  the  utmost  as  more 
than  a  recommendation  of  them  to  the  religious 
inquirer. 

UnbeHevers  use  the  antecedent  argument  from  the 
order  of  nature  against  our  belief  in  miracles.  Here, 
if  they  only  mean  that  the  fact  of  that  system  of  laws, 
by  which  physical  nature  is  governed,  makes  it  ante- 
cedently improbable  that  an  exception  should  occur 
in  it,  there  is  no  objection  to  the  argument ;  but  if,  as 
is  not  uncommon,  they  mean  that  the  fact  of  an  es- 
tablished order  is  fatal  to  the  very  notion  of  an 
exception,  they  are  using  a  presumption  as  if  it  were 


The  Range  of  the  Illative  Sense.        3  7 1 

a  proof.  They  are  saying-, — What  has  happened  999 
times  one  way  cannot  happen  on  the  loooth  time 
another  way,  because  what  has  happened  999  times 
one  Avay  must  happen  in  the  same  way  on  the  loooth. 
If,  however,  they  mean  that  the  order  of  nature 
constitutes  a  necessity,  and  that  a  law  is  an  un- 
alterable fate,  this  is  to  assume  the  very  point  in 
debate,  and  is  much  more  than  its  antecedent  pro- 
bability. 

Facts  cannot  be  proved  by  presumptions,  yet  it  is 
remarkable  that  in  cases  when  nothing-  stronger  than 
presumption  was  ever  professed,  scientific  men  have 
sometimes  acted  as  if  they  thought  this  kind  of  argu- 
ment taken  by  itself  decisive  of  a  fact  which  was  in 
debate.  In  the  controversy  about  the  Plurality  of 
worlds,  it  has  been  considered,  on  purely  antecedent 
grounds,  as  far  as  I  see,  to  be  so  necessary  that  the 
Creator  should  have  filled  with  living  beings  the 
luminaries  which  we  see  in  the  sky,  and  the  other 
cosmical  bodies  which  Ave  imagine  there,  as  almost  to 
amount  to  a  blasphemy  to  doubt  it. 

Theological  conclusions,  it  is  true,  have  often  been 
made  on  antecedent  reasoning;  but  then  it  must  be 
recollected  that  theological  reasoning  professes  to  be 
sustained  by  a  more  than  human  power,  and  to  be 
guaranteed  by  a  more  than  human  authority.  It  may 
be  true,  also,  that  conversions  to  Christianity  have 
often  been  made  on  antecedent  reasons  ;  yet,  even 
admitting  the  fact,  which  is  not  quite  clear,  a  number 
of  antecedent  probabilities,  confirming  each  other, 
may  make  it  a  duty  in  the  judgment  of  a  prudent 
man,  not  only  to  act  as  if  a  statement  were  true, 
but    actually  to   accept  and    believe    it.      This    is 


^']2  The  Illative  Sense, 

not  unfrequently  instanced  in  our  dealings  with 
others,  when  we  feel  it  right,  in  spite  of  our  mis- 
givings, to  oblige  ourselves  to  believe  their  honesty. 
And  in  all  these  delicate  questions  there  is  constant 
call  for  the  exercise  of  the  Illative  Sense. 


CHAPTER   X. 

RELIGIOUS   INFERENCES. 

And  now  I  have  completed  my  review  of  the  second 
subject  to  which  I  have  given  my  attention  in  this 
Essay,  the  connexion  existing  between  the  intellec- 
tual acts  of  Assent  and  Inference,  my  first  being  the 
connexion  of  Assent  with  Apprehension;  and  as  I 
closed  my  remarks  upon  Assent  and  Apprehension 
by  applying  the  conclusions  at  which  I  had  arrived 
to  our  belief  in  the  truths  of  Religion,  so  now  I  ought 
to  speak  of  its  evidences,  before  quitting  the  consid- 
eration of  the  dependence  of  Assent  upon  Inference. 
I  shall  attempt  to  do  so  in  this  Chapter,  not  without 
much  anxiety,  lest  I  should  injure  so  large,  momen- 
tous, and  sacred  a  subject  by  a  necessarily  cursory 
treatment. 

I  begin  with  expressing  a  sentiment,  which  is  habi- 
tually in  my  thoughts,  whenever  they  are  turned  to 
the  subject  of  mental  or  moral  science,  and  which  I 
am  as  willing  to  apply  here  to  the  Evidences  of 
Religion  as  it  properly  applies  to  Metaphysics  or 
Ethics,  viz.  that  in  these  provinces  of  inquiry  egotism 
is  true  modesty.  In  religious  inquiry  each  of  us  can 
speak  only  for  himself,  and  for  himself  he  has  a  right 
to  speak.     His  own  experiences  are  enough  for  him- 


374  Religions  Infe^xnccs, 

self,  but  he  cannot  speak  for  others:  he  cannot  lay 
down  the   law  ;  he  can  only  bring  his  own  experi- 
ences to  the  common  stock  of  psychological  facts. 
He  knows  what  has  satisfied  and  satisfies  himself;  if 
it  satisfies  him,  it  is  likely  to  satisfy  others ;  if,  as  he 
believes  and  is  sure,  it  is  true,  it  will  approve  itself  to 
others  also,  for  there  is  but  one  truth.     And  doubt- 
less he  does  find  in  fact,  that,  allowing  for  the  differ- 
ence of  minds  and  of  modes  of  speech,  what  con- 
vinces him,  does  convince  others  also.     There  will  be 
very  many  exceptions,  but  these  will  admit  of  expla- 
nation.    Great  numbers  of  men  refuse  to  inquire  at- 
all;  they  put  the  subject  of  religion  aside  altogether; 
others  are  not  serious  enough  to  care  about  questions 
of  truth  and  duty  and  to  entertain  them  ;  and  to  num- 
bers, from  their  temper  of  mind,  or  the  absence  of 
doubt,  or  a  dormant  intellect,  it  does  not  occur  to 
inquire  why  or  what  they  believe  ;    many,   though 
they  tried,  could  not  do  so  in  any  satisfactory  way. 
This  being  the  case,  it  causes  no  uneasiness  to  any 
one  who  honestly  attempts  to  set  down  his  own  view 
of  the  Evidences  of  Religion,  that  at  first  sight  he 
seems  to  be  but  one  among  many  who  are  all  in  oppo- 
sition to  each  other.      But,  however  that  may  be,  he 
brings    together   his   reasons,    and    relies   on   them, 
because  they  are  his  own,  and  this  is  his  primary 
evidence  ;  and  he  has  a  second  ground  of  evidence, 
in  the  testimony  of  those  who  agree  with  him.     But 
his  best  evidence   is  the   former,  which   is   derived 
from  his  ovvai   thoughts;    and   it  is  that   which   the 
world  has  a  right  to  demand  of  him  ;  and  therefore  his 
true  sobriety  and  modesty  consists,  not  in  claiming 
for  his  conclusions  an  acceptance  or  a  scientific  ap- 


Religious  Inferences.  375 

proval  which  is  not  to  be  found  any  where,  but  in 
stating  what  are  personally  his  own  grounds  for  his 
belief  in  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion, — grounds 
which  he  holds  to  be  so  sufficient,  that  he  thinks  that 
others  do  hold  them  impUcitly  or  in  substance,  or 
would  hold  them,  if  they  inquired  fairly,  or  will  hold 
if  they  Hsten  to  him,  or  do  not  hold  fi-om  impedi- 
ments, invincible  or  not  as  it  may  be,  into  which  he 
has  no  call  to  inquire.  However,  his  own  business  is 
to  speak  for  himself.  He  uses  the  words  of  the 
Samaritans  to  their  countrywoman,  when  our  Lord 
had  remained  with  them  for  two  days,  "  Now  we 
beheve,  not.  for  thy  saying,  for  we  have  heard  Him 
ourselves,  and  know  that  this  is  indeed  the  Saviour 
of  the  world." 

In  these  words  it  is  declared  both  that  the  Gospel 
Revelation  is  divine,  and  that  it  carries  with  it  the 
evidence  of  its  divinity  ;  and  this  is  of  course  the 
matter  of  fact.  However,  these  two  attributes  need 
not  have  been  united ;  a  revelation  might  have  been 
really  given,  yet  given  without  credentials.  Our  Su- 
preme Master  might  have  imparted  to  us  truths 
Avhich  nature  cannot  teach  us,  without  telling  us  that 
He  had  imparted  them,  as  is  actually  the  case  now, 
as  regards  heathen  countries,  into  v/hich  portions  of 
revealed  truth  overflow  and  penetrate,  without  their 
populations  knoAving  whence  those  truths  came.  But 
the  very  idea  of  Christianity  in  its  profession  and  his- 
tory, is  something  more  than  this  ;  it  is  a  "  Revelatio 
revelata;"  it  is  a  definite  message  from  God  to  man 
distinctly  conveyed  by  His  chosen  instruments,  and 
to  be  received  as  such  a  message ;  and  therefore  to 
be  positively  acknowledged,  embraced,  and  maintain- 


2,y6  Religions  Iiifereiices, 

ed  as  true,  on  the  ground  of  its  being  divine,  not  as 
true  on  intrinsic  grounds,  not  as  probably  true,  or 
partially  true,  but  as  absolutely  certain  knowledge, 
certain  in  a  sense  in  which  nothing  else  can  be  cer- 
tain, because  it  comes  from  Him  who  neither  can  de- 
ceive or  be  deceived. 

And  the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture  from  beginning 
to  end  is  to  this  effect :  the  matter  of  revelation  is  not 
a  mere  collection  of  truths,  not  a  philosophical  view, 
not  a  religious  sentiment  or  spirit,  not  a  special  mo- 
rality, poured  out  upon  mankind  as  a  stream  might 
pour  itself  into  the  sea,  mixing  with  the  world's 
thought,  modifying,  purifying,  invigorating  it ; — but 
an  authoritative  teaching,  which  bears  witness  to  it- 
self, and  keeps  itself  together  as  one,  in  contrast  to 
the  assemblage  of  opinions  on  all  sides  of  it,  and 
speaks  to  all  men,  as  being  ever  and  every  where  one 
and  the  same,  and  claiming  to  be  received  intelligent- 
ly, by  all  whom  it  addresses,  as  one  doctrine,  disci- 
pline, and  devotion  directly  given  from  above.  In 
consequence,  the  exhibition  of  credentials,  that  is,  of 
evidence,  that  it  is  what  it  professes  to  be,  is  essential 
to  Christianity,  as  it  comes  to  us;  for  we  are  not  left 
at  liberty  to  pick  and  choose  out  of  its  contents  ac- 
cording to  our  judgment,  but  must  receive  it  all,  as 
we  find  it,  if  we  accept  it  at  all.  It  is  a  religion  in 
addition  to  the  religion  of  nature ;  and  as  nature  has 
an  intrinsic  claim  upon  us  to  be  obeyed  and  used,  so 
what  is  over  and  above  nature,  or  supernatural,  must 
also  bring  with  it  valid  testimonials  of  its  right  to  de- 
mand our  homage. 

Next,  as  to  its  relation  to  nature.     As  I  have  said, 
Christianity  is  simply  an  addition  to  it ;  it  does  not 


Religious  Lt/erences,  2>77 

supersede  or  contradict  it ;  it  recognizes  and  depends 
on  it,  and  that  of  necessity :  for  how  possibly  can  it 
prove  its  claims  except  by  an  appeal  to  what  men 
have  already  ?  be  it  ever  so  miraculous,  it  cannot  dis- 
pense with  nature  ;  this  would  be  to  cut  the  ground 
from  under  it ;  for  what  would  be  the  worth  of  evi- 
dences in  favor  of  a  revelation  which  denied  the 
authority  of  that  system  of  thought,  and  those  me- 
thods of  reasoning,  out  of  which  those  evidences 
necessarily  grew  ? 

And  in  agreement  with  this  obvious  conclusion  we 
find  in  Scripture  our  Lord  and  His  Apostles  always 
treating  Christianity  as  the  completion  and  supple- 
ment of  Natural  Religion,  and  of  previous  revela- 
tions ;  as  when  He  says  that  the  Father  testified  of 
Him ;  that  not  to  know  Him  was  not  to  know  the 
Father ;  and  as  St.  Paul  at  Athens  appeals  to  the 
''  Unknown  God,"  and  says  that  ''  He  that  made  the 
world "  "  now  declareth  to  all  men  to  do  penance, 
because  He  hath  appointed  a  day  to  judge  the  world 
by  the  man  whom  He  hath  appointed."  As  then  our 
Lord  and  His  Apostles  appeal  to  the  God  of  nature, 
we  must  follow  them  in  that  appeal ;  and,  to  do  this 
with  the  better  effect,  we  must  first  inquire  into  the 
chief  doctrines  and  the  grounds  of  Natural  Religion. 


2,yS  Religious  Inferences, 


§  I.  Natural  Religion. 

By  Religion  I  mean  the  knowledge  of  God,  of  His 
Will,  and  of  our  duties  towards  Him ;  and  there  are 
three  main  channels  which  Nature  furnishes  for  our 
acquiring  this  knowledge,  viz.  our  own  minds,  the 
voice  of  mankind,  and  the  course  of  the  world,  that 
is,  of  human  life  and  human  affairs.  The  informations 
which  these  three  convey  to  us  teach  us  the  Being 
and  Attributes  of  God,  our  responsibility  to  Him, 
our  dependence  on  Him,  our  prospect  of  reward  or 
punishment,  to  be  somehow  brought  about,  accord- 
ing as  we  obey  or  disobey  Him.  And  the  most 
authoritative  of  these  three  means  of  knowledge,  as 
being  specially  our  own,  is  our  own  mind,  whose  in- 
formations give  us  the  rule  by  which  we  test,  inter- 
pret, and  correct  what  is  presented  to  us  for  belief, 
whether  by  the  universal  testimony  of  mankind,  or 
by  the  history  of  society  and  of  the  world. 

Our  great  internal  teacher  of  religion  is,  as  I  have 
said  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  Essay,  our  Conscience. 
Conscience  is  a  personal  guide,  and  I  use  it  because  I 
must  use  it  myself ;  I  am  as  little  able  to  think  by  any 
mind  but  my  own  as  to  breathe  with  another's  lungs. 
Conscience  is  nearer  to  me  than  any  other  means  of 
knowledge.     And  as  it  is  given  to  me,  so  also  is  it 


Natural  Religion,  379 

given  to  others  ;  and  being  carried  about  by  every 
individual  in  his  own  breast,  and  requiring  nothing 
besides  itself,  it  is  thus  adapted  for  the  communica- 
tion to  each  separately  of  that  knowledge  Avhich  is 
most  momentous  to  him  individually, — adapted  for 
the  use  of  all  classes  and  conditions  of  men,  for  high 
and  low,  young  and  old,  men  and  women,  independ- 
ently of  books,  of  educated  reasoning,  of  physical 
knowledge,  or  of  philosophy.  Conscience,  too, 
teaches  us,  not  only  that  God  is,  but  what  He  is ;  it 
provides  for  the  mind  a  real  image  of  Him,  as  a  me- 
dium of  worship ;  it  gives  us  a  rule  of  right  and 
wrong,  as  being  His  rule,  and  a  code  of  moral  duties. 
Moreover,  it  is  so  constituted  that,  if  obeyed,  it  be- 
comes clearer  in  its  injunctions,  and  wider  in  their 
range,  and  corrects  and  completes  the  accidental  fee- 
bleness of  its  initial  teachings.  Conscience,  then, 
considered  as  our  guide,  is  fully  furnished  for  its 
office.  I  say  all  this  without  entering  into  the  ques- 
tion how  far  external  assistances  are  in  all  cases  neces- 
sary to  the  action  of  the  mind,  because  in  fact  man 
does  not  live  in  isolation,  but  is  every  where  found 
as  a  member  of  society.  I  am  not  concerned  here 
with  abstract  questions. 

Conscience  suggests  to  us  many  things  about  that 
Master,  whom  by  means  of  it  we  perceive,  but  its 
most  prominent  teaching,  and  its  cardinal  and  dis- 
tinguishing truth,  is  that  He  is  our  Judge.  In  conse- 
quence, the  special  Attribute  under  which  it  brings 
Him  before  us,  to  which  it  subordinates  all  other 
Attributes,  is  that  of  justice — retributive  justice. 
We  learn  from  its  informations  to  conceive  of  the 
Almighty,  primarily,  not  as  a  God  of  Wisdom,  of 


380  Religious  Inferences. 

Knowledge,  of  Power,  of  Benevolence,  but  as  a  God 
of  Judgment  and  Justice  ;  as  One  who,  not  simply 
for  the  good  of  the  offender,  but  as  an  end  good  in 
itself,  and  as  a  principle  of  government,  ordains  that 
the  offender  should  suffer  for  his  offence.  If  it  tells 
us  any  thing  at  all  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Divine 
Mind,  it  certainly  tells  us  this ;  and,  considering  that 
our  shortcomings  are  far  more  frequent  and  import- 
ant than  our  fulfilment  of  the  duties  enjoined  upon 
us,  and  that  of  this  point  we  are  fully  aware  our- 
selves, it  follows  that  the  aspect  under  which  Almighty 
God  is  presented  to  us  by  Nature,  is  (to  use  a  figure) 
of  One  v/ho  is  angry  with  us,  and  threatens  evil. 
Hence  its  effect  is  to  burden  and  sadden  the  religious 
mind,  and  is  in  contrast  with  the  enjoyment  derivable 
from  the  exercise  of  the  affections,  and  from  the  per- 
ception of  beauty,  whether  in  the  material  universe 
or  in  the  creations  of  the  intellect.  This  is  that  fear- 
ful antagonism  brought  out  with  such  soul-piercing 
reality  by  Lucretius,  when  he  speaks  so  dishonorably 
of  what  he  considers  the  heavy  yoke  of  religion,  and 
the  "  seternas  poenas  in  morte  timendum  ;"  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  rejoices  in  his  ''Alma  Venus,"  '*qu2e 
rerum  naturam  sola  gubernas."  And  we  may  appeal 
to  him  for  the  fact,  while  we  repudiate  his  view  of  it. 
Such  being  the /r^V/^^^/i^^^V  aspect  of  religion  which 
the  teachings  of  Conscience  bring  before  us  individu- 
ally, in  the  next  place  let  us  consider  what  are  its 
doctrines,  and  w^hat  its  influences,  as  we  find  it  em- 
bodied in  those  various  rites  and  devotions  which 
have  taken  root  in  the  many  races  of  mankind,  since 
the  beginning  of  history,  and  before  history,  all  over 
the  earth.     Of  these  also  Lucretius  gives  us  a  speci- 


Natural  Religion.  381 

men ;  and  they  accord  in  form  and  complexion  with 
that  doctrine  about  duty  and  responsibility,  which  he 
so  bitterly  hates  and  loathes.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  insist,  that  wherever  religion  exists  in  a  popular 
shape,  it  has  almost  invariably  worn  its  dark  side  out- 
wards. It  is  founded  in  one  way  or  other  on  the 
sense  of  sin ;  and  without  that  vivid  sense  it  would 
hardly  have  any  precepts  or  any  observances.  Its 
many  varieties  all  proclaim  or  imply  that  man  is  in  a 
degraded,  servile  condition,  and  requires  expiation, 
reconciliation,  and  some  great  change  of  nature. 
This  is  suggested  to  us  in  the  many  ways  in  which 
we  are  told  of  a  realm  of  light  and  a  realm  of  dark- 
ness, of  an  elect  fold  and  a  regenerate  state.  It  is 
suggested  in  the  almost  ubiquitous  and  ever-recur- 
ring institution  of  a  Priesthood ;  for  wherever  there  is 
a  priest,  there  is  the  notion  of  sin,  pollution,  and  retri- 
bution, as,  on  the  other  hand,  of  intercession  and  me- 
diation. Also,  still  more  directly,  is  the  notion  of  our 
guilt  impressed  upon  us  by  the  doctrine  of  future 
punishment,  and  that  eternal,  which  is  found  in  my- 
thologies and  creeds  of  such  various  parentage. 

Of  these  distinct  rites  and  doctrines  embodying 
the  severe  side  of  Natural  Religion,  the  most  re- 
markable is  that  of  atonement,  that  is, ''  a  substitution 
of  something  offered,  or  some  personal  suftering,  for 
a  penalty  which  would  otherwise  be  exacted  ;"  most 
remarkable,  I  say,  both  from  its  close  connexion 
with  the  notion  of  vicarious  satisfaction,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  from  its  universality.  ''  The  practice  of 
atonement,"  says  the  author,  whose  definition  of  the 
word  I  have  just  given,  ''  is  remarkable  for  its  anti- 
quity and  universality,  proved  by  the  earliest  records 


382  Religious  Infere?ices. 

that  have  come  down  to  us  of  all  nations,  and  by  the 
testimony  of  ancient  and  modern  travellers.  In  the 
oldest  books  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  we  have 
numerous  instances  of  expiatory  rites,  where  atone- 
ment is  the  prominent  feature.  At  the  earliest  date, 
to  Avhich  we  can  carry  our  inquiries  by  means  of  the 
heathen  records,  w^e  meet  with  the  same  notion  of 
atonement.  If  we  pursue  our  inquiries  through  the 
accounts  left  us  by  the  Greek  and  Roman  Vv^-iters  of 
the  barbarous  nations  with  which  they  were  ac- 
quainted, from  India  to  Britain,  we  shall  find  the 
same  notions  and  similar  practices  of  atonement. 
From  the  most  popular  portion  of  our  own  litera- 
ture, our  narratives  of  voyages  and  travels,  every 
one,  probably,  who  reads  at  all  will  be  able  to  find 
for  himself  abundant  proof  that  the  notion  has  been 
as  permanent  as  it  is  universal.  It  shows  itself 
among  the  various  tribes  of  Africa,  the  islanders  of 
the  South  Seas,  and  even  that  most  peculiar  race,  the 
natives  of  Australia,  either  in  the  shape  of  some 
offering,  or  some  mutilation  of  the  person."'"' 

These  ceremonial  acknowledgments,  in  so  many 
distinct  forms  of  worship,  of  the  existing  degrada- 
tion of  the  human  race,  of  course  imply  a  brighter, 
as  well  as  a  threatening  aspect  of  Natural  Religion  ; 
for  why  should  men  adopt  any  rites  of  deprecation 
or  of  purification  at  all,  unless  they  had  some  hope 
of  attaining  to  a  better  condition  than  their  present  ? 
Of  this  happier  side  of  religion  I  will  speak  pre- 
sently ;  here,  however,  a  question  of  another  kind 
occurs,  viz.  whether  the  notion  of  atonement  can  be 

*  Penny  Cyclopcedia,  art.  "  Atonement "  (abridged). 


NaHiral  Religion,  383 

admitted  among  the  doctrines  of  Natural  Religion, — 
I  mean,  on  the  ground  that  it  is  inconsistent  with 
those  teachings  of  Conscience,  which  I  have  recog- 
nized above,  as  the  rule  and  corrective  of  every  other 
information  on  the  subject.  If  there  is  any  truth 
brought  home  to  us  by  conscience,  it  is  this,  that  we 
are  personally  responsible  for  what  we  do,  that  we 
have  no  means  of  shifting  our  responsibility,  and  that 
dereliction  of  duty  involves  punishment;  how,  it  may 
be  asked,  can  acts  of  ours  of  any  kind — how  can  even 
amendment  of  life — undo  the  past  ?  And  if  even  our 
own  subsequent  acts  of  obedience  bring  with  them 
no  promise  of  reversing  what  has  once  been  com- 
mitted, how  can  external  rites,  or  the  actions  of  an- 
other (as  of  a  priest),  be  substitutes  for  that  punish- 
ment which  is  the  connatural  fruit  and  intrinsic 
development  of  violation  of  the  sense  of  duty  ?  I  think 
this  objection  avails  as  far  as  this,  that  amendment 
is  no  reparation,  and  that  no  ceremonies  or  penances 
can  in  themselves  exercise  any  vicarious  virtue  in 
our  behalf;  and  that,  if  they  avail,  they  only  avail  in 
the  intermediate  season  of  probation,  that  in  some 
way  we  must  make  them  our  own,  and  that,  when 
the  time  comes,  which  conscience  forebodes,  of  our 
being  called  to  judgment,  then,  at  least,  we  shall  have 
to  stand  in  and  by  ourselves,  whatever  we  shall  have 
ultimately  become,  and  must  bear  our  own  burden. 
But  it  is  plain  that  in  this  final  account,  as  it  lies 
between  us  and  our  Master,  He  alone  can  decide  how 
the  past  and  the  present  will  stand  together  who  is 
our  Creator  and  our  Judge. 

In  thus  appealing  from  the  religions  of  the  world  to 
the  intimations  of  our  conscience,  I  am  suggesting  the 


384  Religious  Inferences. 

reason  why  I  confine  myself  to  such  religions  as  have 
had  their  rise  in  barbarous  times,  and  do  not  recog- 
nize the  religion  of  what  is  called  civilization,  as  hav- 
ing legitimately  a  part  in  the  delineation  of  Natural 
Religion.  It  may  at  first  sight  seem  strange,  that, 
considering  I  have  laid  such  stress  upon  the  progres- 
sive nature  of  man,  I  should  take  my  ideas  of  his 
religion  from  his  initial,  and  not  his  final  testimony 
about  its  doctrines ;  and  it  may  be  urged  that  the 
religion  of  civilized  times  is  quite  opposite  in  charac- 
ter to  the  rites  and  traditions  of  barbarians,  and  has 
nothing  of  that  gloom  and  sternness,  on  which  I  have 
insisted  as  their  characteristic.  Thus  the  Greek 
Mythology  was  for  the  most  part  cheerful  and  grace- 
ful, and  the  new  gods  certainly  more  genial  and 
indulgent  than  the  old  ones.  And,  in  like  manner, 
the  religion  of  philosophy  is  more  noble  and  more 
humane  than  those  primitive  conceptions  which  were 
sufficient  for  early  kings  and  warriors.  But  my  an- 
swer to  this  objection  is  obvious :  the  progress  of 
which  man's  nature  is  capable  is  a  development,  not 
a  destruction  of  its  original  state  ;  it  must  subserve 
the  elements  from  which  it  proceeds,  in  order  to  be 
a  true  development  and  not  a  perversion.^  And  it 
does  in  fact  subserve  and  complete  that  nature  Avith 
which  man  is  born.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  religion 
of  so-called  civilization  ;  and  since  this  civilization 
itself  is  not  a  development  of  man's  whole  nature,  but 
mainly  of  the  intellect,  recognizing  indeed  the  moral 

*  On  these  various  subjects  I  have  written  in  "  University  Ser- 
mons "  (Oxford),  No.  5.  "Scope  and  Nature  of  University  Educa- 
tion," ch.  vii.  "  History  of  Turks,"  ch.  iv.  "  Development  of  Doctrine," 
ch.  i.  sect.  3. 


Natural  Religioit.  385 

sense,  but  ignoring  the  conscience,  no  wonder  that 
the  religion  in  which  it  issues  has  no  sympathy  either 
with  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  awakened  soul,  or 
with  those  frightful  presentiments  which  are  expressed 
in  the  worship  and  traditions  of  the  heathen.  This 
artificial  religion,  then,  has  no  place  in  the  inquiry ; 
first,  because  it  comes  of  a  one-sided  progress  of 
mind,  and  next,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  contra- 
dicts informants  which  speak  with  greater  authority 
than  itself. 

Now  we  come  to  the  third  natural  informant  on 
the  subject  of  Religion ;  I  mean  the  system  and  the 
course  of  the  world.  This  established  order  of 
things,  in  which  we  find  ourselves,  if  it  has  a  Crea 
tor,  must  surely  speak  of  His  will  in  its  broad  out- 
lines and  its  main  issues.  This  being  laid  down  as 
certain,  when  we  come  to  apply  it  to  things  as  they 
are,  our  first  feehng  is  one  of  surprise  and  (I  may 
say)  of  dismay,  that  His  control  of  the  world  is  so 
indirect,  and  His  action  so  obscure.  This  is  the  first 
lesson  that  we  gain  from  the  course  of  human  affairs. 
What  strikes  the  mind  so  forcibly  and  so  painfully  is, 
His  absence  (if  I  may  so  speak)  from  His  own  world.* 
It  is  a  silence  that  speaks.  It  is  as  if  others  had  got 
possession  of  His  work.  Why  does  not  He,  our 
Maker  and  Ruler,  give  us  some  immediate  know- 
ledge of  Himself?  Why  does  He  not  write  His 
INIoral  Nature  in  large  letters  upon  the  face  of  history, 
and  bring  the  blind,  tumultuous  rush  of  its  events 
into  a  celestial,  hierarchical  order?  Why  does  He 
not  grant  us  at  least  so  much  of  a  revelation  of  Him- 

*  "  History  of  my  Religious  Opinions  "  ("  Apologia"),  p.  241. 


386  Religio2ts  Inferences, 

self  in  the  structure  of  society  as  the  rehgions  of  the 
heathen  attempt  to  supply  ?  Why  from  the  beginning 
of  time  has  no  one  uniform  steady  light  guided  all 
families  of  the  earth,  and  all  individual  men,  how  to 
please  Him  ?  Why  is  it  possible  without  absurdity 
to  deny  His  will.  His  attributes,  His  existence? 
Why  does  He  not  walk  with  us  one  by  one,  as 
He  is  said  to  have  walked  with  His  chosen  men  of 
old  time?  We  both  see  and  know  each  other;  why, 
if  we  cannot  have  the  sight  of  Him,  have  we  not  at 
least  the  knowledge?  On  the  contrary.  He  is  spe- 
cially "  a  Hidden  God  ;"  and  with  our  best  efforts  we 
can  only  glean  from  the  surface  of  the  world  some 
faint  and  fragmentary  views  of  Him.  I  see  only  a 
choice  of  alternatives  in  explanation  of  so  critical  a 
fact : — either  there  is  no  Creator,  or  He  has  disowned 
His  creatures.  Are  then  the  dim  shadows  of  His 
Presence  in  the  affairs  of  men  but  a  fancy  of  our  own, 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  has  He  hid  His  face  and  the 
light  of  His  countenance,  because  we  have  in  some 
special  Avay  dishonored  Him?  My  true  informant, 
my  burdened  conscience,  gives  me  at  once  the  true 
answer  to  each  of  these  antagonist  questions  : — it  pro- 
nounces without  any  misgiving  that  God  exists : — it 
pronounces  too  quite  as  surely  that  I  am  alienated 
from  Him  ;  that  "  His  Hand  is  not  shortened,  but 
that  our  iniquities  have  divided  between  us  and  our 
God."  Thus  it  solves  the  world's  mystery,  and  sees 
in  it  only  a  confirmation  of  its  own  original  teaching. 
Let  us  pass  on  to  another  great  fact  of  experience, 
bearing  on  Religion,  Vv'hich  confirms  this  testimony 
both  of  conscience  and  of  the  forms  of  worship  which 
prevail   among   mankind ; — I    mean,    the   amount   of 


Nahtral  Religion.  ^i^*] 

suffering,  bodily  and  mental,  which  is  our  portion  in 
this  Hfe.  Not  only  is  the  Creator  far  off,  but  some 
being  of  malignant  nature  seems,  as  I  have  said,  to 
have  got  hold  of  us,  and  to  be  making  us  his  sport. 
Let  us  say  there  are  a  thousand  millions  of  men  on 
the  earth  at  this  time;  who  can  weigh  and  measure 
the  aggregate  of  pain  which  this  one  generation  has 
endured  and  will  endure  from  birth  to  death  ?  Then 
add  to  this  all  the  pain  which  has  fallen  and  will  fall 
upon  our  race  through  centuries  past  and  to  come. 
Is  there  not  then  some  great  gulf  fixed  between  us 
and  the  good  God  ?  Here  again  the  testimony  of 
the  system  of  nature  is  more  than  corroborated  by 
those  popular  traditions  about  the  unseen  state, 
which  are  found  in  mythologies  and  superstitions, 
ancient  and  modern ;  for  those  traditions  speak,  not 
only  of  present  misery,  but  of  pain  and  evil  here- 
after, and  even  without  end.  But  this  dreadful 
addition  is  not  necessary  for  the  conclusion  which  I 
am  here  wishing  to  draw.  The  real  mystery  is,  not 
that  evil  should  never  have  an  end,  but  that  it  should 
ever  have  had  a  beginning.  Even  a  universal  resti- 
tution could  not  undo  what  had  been,  or  account  for 
evil  being  the  necessary  condition  of  good.  How 
are  we  to  explain  it,  the  existence  of  God  being 
taken  for  granted,  except  by  saying  that  another 
will,  besides  His,  has  had  a  part  in  the  disposition  of 
His  work,  that  there  is  an  intractable  quarrel,  a 
chronic  alienation,  between  God  and  man  ? 

I  have  said  that  the  laws  on  which  this  world  is 
governed  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  prove  that  evil  will 
never  die  out  of  the  creation  ;  nevertheless,  they  look 
in  that  direction.     No  experience  indeed  of  life  can 


388  Religious  Inferences, 

assure  us  about  the  future,  but  it  can  and  does  give 
us  means  of  conjecturing  what  is  likely  to  be ;  and 
those  conjectures  coincide  with  our  natural  fore- 
bodings. Experience  enables  us  to  ascertain  the 
moral  constitution  of  man,  and  thereby  to  presage 
his  future  from  his  present.  It  teaches  us,  first,  that 
he  is  not  sufficient  for  his  own  happiness,  but  is  de- 
pendent upon  the  sensible  objects  which  surround 
him,  and  that  these  he  cannot  take  with  him  when  he 
leaves  the  world ;  secondly,  that  disobedience  to  his 
sense  of  right  is  even  by  itself  misery,  and  that  he 
carries  that  misery  about  him,  wherever  he  is,  though 
no  divine  retribution  followed  upon  it ;  and  thirdly, 
that  he  cannot  change  his  nature  and  his  habits  by 
wishing,  but  is  simply  himself,  and  will  ever  be  him- 
self and  what  he  now  is,  wherever  he  is,  as  long  as 
he  continues  to  be, — or  at  least  that  pain  has  no 
natural  tendency  to  make  him  other  than  he  is,  and 
that  the  longer  he  lives,  the  more  difficult  he  is  to 
change.  How  can  w^e  meet  these  not  irrational 
anticipations,  except  by  shutting  our  eyes,  turning 
away  from  them,  and  saying  that  we  have  no  call,  no 
right,  to  think  of  them  at  present,  or  to  make  our- 
selves miserable  about  what  is  not  certain,  and  may 
be  not  true  ?  '^ 

Such  is  the  severe  aspect  of  Natural  Religion: 
also  it  is  the  most  prominent  aspect,  because  the 
multitude  of  men  follow  their  own  likings  and  wills, 
and  not  the  decisions  of  their  sense  of  right  and 
wrong.  To  them  Religion  is  a  mere  yoke,  as  Lu- 
cretius describes  it ;  not  a  satisfaction  or  refuge,  but 
a  terror  and  a  superstition.     However,  I  must  not 

*  Vid.  "  Callista,"  ch.  xix. 


N alter al  Religion.  389 

for  an  instant  be  supposed  to  mean,  that  this  is  its 
only,  its  chief,  or  its  legitimate  aspect.  All  Religion, 
so  far  as  it  is  genuine,  is  a  blessing.  Natural  as  well 
as  Revealed.  I  have  insisted  on  its  severe  aspect  in 
the  first  place,  because,  from  the  circumstances  of 
human  nature,  though  not  by  the  fault  of  Religion, 
such  is  the  shape  in  which  we  first  encounter  it.  Its 
large  and  deep  foundation  is  the  sense  of  sin  and 
guilt,  and  without  this  sense  there  is  for  man,  as  he 
is,  no  genuine  religion.  Otherwise,  it  is  but  counter- 
feit and  hollow ;  and  that  is  the  reason  w^hy  this  so- 
called  religion  of  civilization  and  philosophy  is  so 
great  a  mockery.  However,  true  as  this  judgment 
is  upon  philosophical  religion,  and  troubled  as  are 
the  existing  relations  between  God  and.  man,  as  both 
the  voice  of  mankind  and  the  facts  of  Divine  Gov- 
ernment testify,  equally  true  are  other  general  laws 
which  govern  those  relations,  and  they  speak  an- 
other language,  and  compensate  for  what  is  stern  in 
the  teaching  of  nature,  without  tending  to  deny  its 
sternness. 

The  first  of  these  laws,  relieving  the  aspect  of 
Natural  Religion,  is  the  very  fact  that  religious  be- 
liefs and  institutions,  of  some  kind  or  other,  are  of 
such  general  acceptance  in  all  times  and  places. 
Why  should  men  subject  themselves  to  the  tyranny 
which  Lucretius  denounces,  unless  they  had  either 
experience  or  hope  of  benefits  to  themselves  by  so 
doing?  Though  it  be  mere  hope  of  benefits,  that 
alone  is  a  great  alleviation  of  the  gloom  and  misery 
which  their  religious  rites  presuppose  or  occasion  ; 
for  thereby  they  have  a  prospect,  more  or  less  clear, 
of  some  happier  state  in  reserve  for  them,  or  at  least 


390  Religious  Infc7xnces. 

the  chances  of  it.  If  they  simply  despaired  of  their 
fortunes,  they  would  not  care  about  religion.  And 
hope  of  future  good,  as  we  know,  sweetens  all 
suffering. 

Moreover,  they  have  an  earnest  of  that  future  in 
the  real  and  recurring  blessings  of  life,  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  gifts  of  the  earth,  and  of  domestic  affec- 
tion and  social  intercourse,  which  is  sufficient  to 
affect  and  subdue  even  the  most  guilty  of  men  in  his 
better  moments,  reminding  him  that  he  is  not  utterly 
cast  oiF  by  Him  whom  nevertheless  he  is  not  given 
to  know.  Or,  in  the  Apostle's  words,  though  the 
Creator  once  "suffered  all  nations  to  walk  in  their 
own  Avays,"  still,  "  He  left  not  Himself  without  testi- 
mony, doing  good  from  heaven,  giving  rains  and 
fruitful  seasons,  filHng  our  hearts  with  food  and 
gladness." 

Nor  are  these  blessings  of  physical  nature  the  only 
tokens  in  the  Divine  System,  which  in  that  heathen 
time,  and  indeed  in  every  age,  bring  home  to  our 
experience  the  fact  of  a  Good  God,  in  spite  of  the 
tumult  and  confusion  of  the  world.  It  is  possible  to 
give  an  interpretation  to  the  course  of  things,  by 
which  every  event  or  occurrence  in  its  order  be 
comes  providential:  and  though  that  interpretation 
does  not  hold  good  unless  the  Avorld  is  contemplated 
from  a  particular  point  of  view,  in  one  given  aspect, 
and  with  certain  inward  experiences,  and  personal 
first  principles  and  judgments,  yet  these  may  be  fairly 
pronounced  to  be  common  conditions  of  human 
thought,  that  is,  till  the}^  are  wilfully  or  accidentally 
lost ;  and.  they  issue  in  fact,  in  leading  .the  great 
majority  of  men  to  recognize  the  Hand  of  unseen 


Natural  Religion,  391 

power,  directing  in  mercy  or  in  judgment  the  physi 
cal  and  moral  system.  The  prominent  events  of  the 
world,  past  and  contemporary,  the  fate,  evil  or  happy, 
of  great  men,  the  rise  and  fall  of  states,  popular 
revolutions,  decisive  battles,  the  migration  of  races, 
the  replenishing  of  the  earth,  earthquakes  and  pes- 
tilences, critical  discoveries  and  inventions,  the  his- 
tory of  philosophy,  the  advancement  of  knowledge, 
in  these  the  spontaneous  piety  of  the  human  mind 
discerns  a  Divine  Supervision.  Nay,  there  is  a 
general  feeling,  originating  directly  in  the  workings 
of  conscience,  that  a  similar  governance  is  extended 
over  the  persons  of  individuals,  who  thereby  both 
fulfil  the  purposes  and  receive  the  just  recompenses 
of  an  Omnipotent  Providence.  Good  to  the  good, 
and  evil  to  the  evil,  is  instinctively  felt  to  be,  even 
from  what  we  see,  amid  whatever  obscurity  and  con- 
fusion, the  universal  rule  of  God's  dealings  with  us. 
Hence  come  the  great  proverbs,  indigenous  in  both 
Christian  and  heathen  nations,  that  punishment  is 
sure,  though  slovv^,  that  murder  will  out,  that  treason 
never  prospers,  that  pride  will  have  a  fall,  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy,  and  that  curses  fall  on  the 
heads  of  those  who  utter  them.  To  the  unsophisti- 
cated apprehension  of  the  many,  the  successive  pas- 
sages of  life,  socia,l  or  political,  are  so  many  miracles, 
if  that  is  to  be  accounted  miraculous  which  brings 
before  them  the  immediate  Divine  Presence ;  and 
should  it  be  objected  that  this  is  an  illogical  exercise 
of  reason,  I  answer,  that  since  it  actually  brings  them 
to  a  right  conclusion,  and  was  intended  to  bring  them 
to  it,  if  logic  finds  fault  with  it,  so  much  the  worse  for 
logic. 


392  Religious  Inferences. 

Again,  prayer  is  essential  to  religion,  and,  vv^here 
prayer  is,  there  is  a  natural  relief  and  solace  in  all 
trouble,  great  or  ordinary:  now  prayer  is  not  less 
general  in  mankind  at  large  than  is  faith  in  Provi- 
dence. It  has  ever  been  in  use,  both  as  a  personal 
and  as  a  social  practice.  Here  again,  if,  in  order  to 
determine  what  the  Religion  of  Nature  is,  we  may 
justly  have  recourse  to  the  spontaneous  acts  and  pro- 
ceedings of  our  race,  as  viewed  on  a  large  field,  we 
may  safely  say  that  prayer,  as  well  as  hope,  is  a  con- 
stituent of  man's  religion.  Nor  is  it  a  fair  objection 
to  this  argument,  to  say  that  such  prayers  and  rites 
as  have  obtained  in  various  places  and  times,  are  in 
their  character,  object,  and  scope  inconsistent  with 
each  other ;  because  their  contrarieties  do  not  come 
into  the  idea  of  religion,  as  such,  at  all,  and  the  very 
fact  of  their  discordance  destroys  their  right  to  be 
taken  into  account,  so  far  as  they  are  discordant ;  for 
what  is  not  universal  has  no  claim  to  be  considered 
natural,  right,  or  of  divine  origin.  Thus  we  may 
determine  prayer  to  be  part  of  Natural  Religion, 
from  such  instances  of  the  usage  as  are  supplied  by 
the  priests  of  Baal  and  by  dancing  Dervishes,  with- 
out therefore  including  in  our  notions  of  prayer  the 
frantic  excesses  of  the  one,  or  the  artistic  spinning  of 
the  other,  or  sanctioning  their  respective  objects  of 
belief,  Baal  or  Mahomet. 

As  prayer  is  the  voice  of  man  to  God,  so  Revela- 
tion is  the  voice  of  God  to  man.  Accordingly,  it  is 
another  alleviation  of  the  darkness  and  distress  which 
weigh  upon  the  religions  of  the  Avorld,  that  in  one 
way  or  other  such  religions  are  founded  on  some  idea 
of  express  revelation,  coming  from  the  unseen  agents 


Natu7^al  Religion.  393 

whose  an^^er  they  deprecate  ;  nay,  that  the  very  rites 
and  observances,  by  which  they  hope  to  gain  the  fa- 
vor of  these  beings,  are  by  these  beings  themselves 
communicated  and  appointed.  The  Religion  of 
Nature  is  not  a  deduction  of  reason,  or  the  joint, 
voluntary  manifesto  of  a  multitude  meeting  together 
and  pledging  themselves  to  each  other,  as  men  move 
resolutions  now  for  some  pohtical  or  social  purpose, 
but  it  is  a  tradition  or  an  interposition  vouchsafed  to 
a  people  from  above.  To  such  an  interposition  men 
even  ascribed  their  civil  polity  or  citizenship,  which 
did  not  originate  in  any  plebiscite,  but  in  dii  minores 
or  heroes,  was  inaugurated  with  portents  or  palladia, 
and  protected  and  prospered  by  oracles  and  augu- 
ries. Here  is  an  evidence,  too,  how  congenial  the 
notion  of  a  revelation  is  to  the  human  mind,  so  that 
the  expectation  of  it  may  truly  be  considered  an  inte- 
gral part  of  Natural  Religion. 

Among  the  observances  imposed  by  these  professed 
revelations,  none  is  more  remarkable,  or  more  gene- 
ral, than  the  rite  of  sacrifice,  in  which  guilt  was  re- 
moved or  blessing  gained  by  an  offering,  which 
availed  instead  of  the  merits  of  the  offerer.  This 
too,  as  well  as  the  notion  of  divine  interpositions, 
may  be  considered  almost  an  integral  part  of  the  Re- 
ligion of  Nature.  But  it  does  not  stand  by  itself;  I 
have  already  spoken  of  the  doctrine  of  atonement, 
or  vicariousness,  under  Avhich  it  falls,  and  which,  if 
what  is  universal  is  natural,  enters  into  the  idea  of 
religious  service.  And  what  the  nature  of  man  sug- 
gests, the  providential  system  of  the  world  sanctions 
by  enforcing.  It  is  the  law,  or  the  permission,  given 
to  our  whole  race,  to  use  the  Apostle's  words,  to 


394  Religions  Inferences. 

*'  bear  one  another's  burdens ;"  and  this,  as  I  said 
when  on  the  subject  of  Atonement,  is  quite  consistent 
with  his  antithesis  that  ''  ever}^  one  must  bear  his 
own  burden."  The  final  burden  of  responsibility 
when  we  are  called  to  judgment  is  our  ovv^n  ;  but 
among  the  media  by  which  we  are  prepared  for  that 
judgment  are  the  exertions  and  pains  taken  in  our 
behalf  by  others.  On  this  vicarious  principle,  by 
which  we  appropriate  to  ourselves  what  others  do  for 
us,  the  whole  structure  of  society  is  raised.  Parents 
work  and  endure  pain,  that  their  children  may  pros- 
per ;  children  suffer  for  the  sin  of  their  parents,  who 
have  died  before  it  bore  fruit.  "  DeHrant  reges, 
plectuntur  Achivi."  Sometimes  it  is  a  compulsory, 
sometimes  a  willing  mediation.  The  punishment 
which  is  earned  by  the  husband  falls  upon  the  wife ; 
the  benefits  in  which  all  classes  partake  are  wrought 
out  by  the  unhealthy  or  dangerous  toil  of  the  few. 
Soldiers  endure  wounds  and  death  for  those  who  sit 
at  home  ;  and  ministers  of  state  fall  victims  to  their 
zeal  for  their  countrymen,  who  do  little  else  than 
criticize  their  actions.  And  so  in  some  measure  or 
way  this  law  embraces  all  of  us.  We  all  suffer  for 
each  other,  and  gain  by  each  other's  sufferings ;  for 
man  never  stands  alone  here,  though  he  will  stand 
by  himself  one  day  hereafter;  but  here  he  is  a  social 
being,  and  goes  forward  to  his  long  home  as  one  of  a 
large  company. 

Butler,  it  need  scarcely  be  said,  is  the  great  master 
of  this  doctrine,  as  it  is  brought  out  in  the  system  of 
nature.  In  answer  to  the  objection  to  the  Christian 
doctrine  of  satisfaction,  that  it  "  represents  God  as 
indifferent  whether  He  punishes  the  innocent  or  the 


Natural  Religion.  395 

guilty,"  he  observes  that  ''  the  world  is  a  constitution 
or  system,  Avhose  parts  have  a  mutual  reference  to 
each  other ;  and  that  there  is  a  scheme  of  things  gra- 
dually carrying  on,  called  the  course  of  nature,  to  the 
carrying  on  of  which  God  has  appointed  us,  in  vari- 
ous ways,  to  contribute.  And  in  the  daily  course  of 
natural  providence,  it  is  appointed  that  innocent 
people  should  suffer  for  the  faults  of  the  guilty. 
Finally,  indeed  and  upon  the  whole,  every  one  shall 
receive  according  to  his  personal  deserts  ;  but  during 
the  progress,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  even  in  order 
to  the  completion  of  this  moral  scheme,  vicarious 
punishments  may  be  fit,  and  absolutely  necessary. 
We  see  in  what  variety  of  ways  one  person's  suffer- 
ings contribute  to  the  relief  of  another ;  and  being 
familiarized  to  it,  men  are  not  shocked  with  it.  So 
the  reason  of  their  insisting  on  objections  against  the 
[doctrine  of]  satisfaction  is,  either  that  they  do  not 
consider  God's  settled  and  uniform  appointments  as 
His  appointments  at  all ;  or  else  they  forget  that  vicari- 
ous punishment  is  a  providential  appointment  of  every 
day's  experience."  *  I  will  but  add,  that,  since  all 
human  suffering  is  in  its  last  resolution  the  punish- 
ment of  sin,  and  punishment  implies  a  Judge  and  a 
rule  of  justice,  he  v/ho  undergoes  the  punishment  of 
another  in  his  stead  may  be  said  in  a  certain  sense 
to  satisfy  the  claims  of  justice  towards  that  other  in  his 
own  person. 

One  concluding  remark  has  to  be  made  here.  In 
all  sacrifices  it  was  specially  required  that  the  thing 
offered  should  be  something  rare,  and  unblemished ; 

*"  Analogy,"  Pt.  ii.  ch.  5  (abridged). 


39^  Religious  Inferences. 

and  in  like  manner  in  all  atonements  and  all  satisfac- 
tions, not  onl}^  were  the  innocent  taken  for  the  guilty, 
but  it  was  a  point  of  special  importance  that  the  vic- 
tim should  be  spotless,  and  the  more  manifest  that 
spotlessness,  the  more  efficacious  was  the  sacrifice. 
This  leads  me  to  a  last  principle  which  I  shall  notice 
as  proper  to  Natural  Religion,  and  as  lightening  the 
prophecies  of  evil  in  which  it  is  founded  ;  I  mean  the 
doctrine  of  meritorious  intercession.     The  man  in  the 
Gospel  did  but  speak  for  the  human  race  every  Avhere, 
when  he  said,  ''  God  heareth  not  sinners  ;  but  if  a  man 
be  a  worshipper  of  God,  and  doth  His  will,  him  He 
heareth."     Hence  every  religion  has  had  its  eminent 
devotees,   exalted   above   the   body   of   the   people, 
mortified  men,  brought  nearer  to  the  Source  of  good 
by  austerities,  self-inflictions,  and  prayer,  who  have 
influence  with  Him,  and  extend  a  shelter  and  gain 
blessings   for  those   who   become   their   clients.      A 
belief  hke  this  has  been,  of  course,  attended  by  num- 
berless   superstitions;   but   those    superstitions   vary 
with  times  and   places,  and  the  belief  itself  in  the 
mediatorial  power  of  the  good  and  holy  has  been  one 
and  the  same  every  where.    Nor  is  this  belief  an  idea 
of  past  times  only  or  of  heathen  countries.     It  is  one 
of  the  most  natural  visions  of  the  3^oung  and  innocent. 
And  all  of  us,  the  more  keenly  we  feel  our  own  dis- 
tance from  holy  persons,  the  more  are  we  drawn  near 
to  them,  as  if  forgetting  that  distance,  and  proud  of 
them  because  they  are  so  unlike  ourselves,  as  being 
specimens  of  what  our  nature  may  be,  and  with  some 
vague   hope  that  we,  their  relations  by  blood,  may 
profit  in  our  own  persons  by  their  holiness. 

Such,  then,  in  outline  is  that  system  of  natural  be- 


Nahtral  Religion.  397 

liefs  and  sentiments,  which,  though  true  and  divine, 
is  still  possible  to  us  independently  of  Revelation,  and 
is  the  preparation  for  it ;  though  in  Christians  them- 
selves it  cannot  really  be  separated  from  their  Chris- 
tianity, and  never  is  possessed  in  its  higher  forms  in 
any  people  without  some  portion  of  those  inward  aids 
which  Christianity  imparts  to  us,  and  those  endemic 
traditions  which  have  their  first  origin  in  a  paradisia- 
cal illumination. 


39^  Religious  Inferences, 


§  2.  Revealed  Religion. 

In  determining,  as  above,  the  main  features  of  Natural 
Religion,  and  distinguishing  it  from  the  religion  of 
philosophy  or  civilization,  I  may  be  accused  of  hav- 
ing taken  a  course  of  my  own,  for  which  I  have  no 
sufficient  warrant.     Such  an  accusation  does  not  give 
me  much  concern.     Every  one  who  thinks  on  these 
subjects  takes  a  course   of  his  own,  though  it  will 
also  happen  to  be  the  course  which  others  take  be- 
sides himself.     The  minds  of  many  separately  bear 
them  forward  in  the  same  direction,  and  they  are 
confirmed  in  it  by  each  other.     This  I  consider  to  be 
my  own  case ;  if  I  have  mis-stated  or  omitted  notori- 
ous facts  in  my  account  of  Natural  Religion,  if  I  have 
contradicted  or  disregarded  any  thing  which  He  who 
speaks  through  my  conscience  has  told  us  all  directly 
from  Heaven,  then  indeed  I  have  acted  unjustifiably 
and  have  something  to  unsay ;  but,  if  I  have  done  no 
more  than  handle  the  notorious  facts  of  the  case  in 
the  medium  of  my  primary  mental  experiences,  undei 
the  aspects  Avhich  they  spontaneously  present  to  me, 
and  with  the  aid  of  my  best  illative  sense,  I  only  do 
on  one  side  of  the  question  what  those  who  think  dif- 
ferently do  on  the  other.     As  they  start  with  one  set 
of  first  principles,  I  start  with  another.     I  gave  notice 


Revealed  Religion,  399 

just  now  that  I  should  offer  my  own  witness  in  the 
matter  in  question  ;  though  of  course  it  v/ould  not  be 
Avorth  while  my  offering  it,  unless  what  I  felt  myself 
agreed  with  what  is  felt  by  hundreds  and  thousands 
besides  me,  as  I  am  sure  it  does,  whatever  be  the 
measure,  more  or  less,  of  their  explicit  recognition 
of  it. 

In  thus  speaking  of  Natural  Religion  as  in  one  sense 
a  matter  of  private  judgment,  and  that  with  a  view 
of  proceeding  from  it  to  the  proof  of  Christianity,  I 
seem  to  give  up  the  intention  of  demonstrating  either. 
Certainly  I  do ;  not  that  I  deny  that  demonstration 
is  possible.  Truth  certainly,  as  such,  rests  upon 
grounds  intrinsically  and  objectively  and  abstractedly 
demonstrative,  but  it  does  not  follow  from  this  that 
the  arguments  producible  in  its  favor  are  unanswer- 
able and  irresistible.  These  latter  epithets  are  relative, 
and  bear  upon  matters  of  fact ;  arguments  in  them- 
selves ought  to  do,  what  perhaps  in  the  particular 
case  they  cannot  do.  The  fact  of  revelation  is  in 
itself  demonstrably  true,  but  it  is  not  therefore  true 
irresistibly  ;  else,  how  comes  it  to  be  resisted  ?  There 
is  a  vast  distance  between  what  it  is  in  itself,  and  what 
it  is  to  us.  Light  is  a  quality  of  matter,  as  truth  is  of 
Christianity  ;  but  light  is  not  recognized  by  the  blind, 
and  there  are  those  who  do  not  recognize  truth,  from 
the  fault,  not  of  truth,  but  of  themselves.  I  cannot 
convert  men  by  means  of  assumptions  which  they 
refuse  to  grant  me ;  and  without  assumptions  no  one 
can  prove  any  thing  about  any  thing. 

I  am  suspicious  then  of  scientific  demonstrations  in 
a  question  of  concrete  fact,  in  a  discussion  between 
fallible  men.     However,  let  those  demonstrate  who 


400  Religious  Inferences, 

have  the  gift ;  ''  unusquisque  in  suo  sensu  abundet." 
For  me,  it  is  more  congenial  to  my  own  judgment  to 
attempt  to  prove  Christianity  in  the  same  informal 
Avay  in  which  I  can  prove  for  certain  that  1  have  been 
born  into  this  world,  and  that  I  shall  die  out  of  it.  It 
is  pleasant  to  my  own  feelings  to  follow  a  theological 
writer,  such  as  Amort,  who  has  dedicated  to  the 
great  Pope,  Benedict  XIV.,  what  he  calls  ''  a  new, 
modest,  and  easy  way  of  demonstrating  the  Catholic 
Religion."  In  this  work  he  adopts  the  argument 
merely  of  the  greater  probabihty ;  '-^  I  prefer  to  rely 
on  that  of  an  acciumtlation  of  various  probabilities ; 
but  we  both  hold  (that  is,  I  hold  with  him),  that  from 
probabilities  w^e  may  construct  legitimate  proof,  suffi- 
cient for  certitude.  I  follow  him  in  holding,  that 
since  a  Good  Providence  w^atches  over  us.  He  blesses 
such  means  of  argument  as  it  has  pleased  Him  to  give 

*  "  Scopus  operis  est,  planiorem  Protestantibus  aperire  viam  ad 
veram  Ecclesiam.  Cum  enim  hactenus  Polemici  nostri  insudarint 
toti  in  demonstrandis  singulis  Religionis  Catholicse  articulis,  in  id  ego 
unum  incumbo,  ut  haec  tria  evincam.  Primo  :  Articulos  fundamen- 
tales  Religionis  Catholicae  esse  evidenter  credibiliores  oppositis,  etc., 
etc.  .  .  .  Demonstratio  autem  hujus  novae,  modestae,  ac  facilis  viae, 
qua  ex  articulis  fundamentalibus  solum  probabilioribus  adstruitur 
summa  Religionis  certitudo,  haec  est :  Deus,  cum  sit  sapiens  ac  pro- 
vidus,  tenetur,  Religionem  a  se  revelatam  reddere  evidenter  credibili- 
orem  religionibus  falsis.  Imprudenter  enim  vellet,  suam  Religionem 
ab  hominibus  recipi,  nisi  cam  redderet  evidenter  credibiliorem  reli- 
gionibus caeteris.  Ergo  ilia  religio,  quae  est  evidenter  credibilior 
caeteris,  est  ipsissima  religio  a  Deo  revelata,  adeoque  certissime  vera, 
seu  demonstrata.  Atqui,  etc.  .  .  .  Motivum  aggrediendi  novam 
banc,  modestam,  ac  facilem  viam  illud  praecipuum  est,  quod  observem, 
Protestantium  plurimos  post  innumeros  concertationum  fluctus,  in  iis 
tandem  consedisse  syrtibus,  ut  credant,  nullam  dari  religionem  unde- 
quaque  demonstratam,  etc.  .  .  .  Ratiociniis  denique  opponunt  ratio- 
cinia  ;  praejudiciis  praejudicia  ex  majoribus  sua,"  etc. 


Revealed  Religion,  401 

us,  in  the  nature  of  man  and  of  the  world,  if  we  use 
them  duly  for  those  ends  for  which  He  has  given 
them  ;  and  that,  as  in  mathematics  we  are  justified 
by  the  dictate  of  nature  in  withholding  our  assent 
from  a  conclusion  of  which  we  have  not  yet  a  strict 
logical  demonstration,  so  by  a  like  dictate  we  are  not 
justified,  in  the  case  of  concrete  reasoning  and  espe- 
cially of  religious  inquiry,  in  waiting  till  such  logical 
demonstration  is  ours,  but  on  the  contrary  are  bound 
in  conscience  to  seek  truth  and  to  look  for  certainty 
b}^  modes  of  proof,  which,  when  reduced  to  the  shape 
of  formal  propositions,  fail  to  satisfy  the  severe  requi- 
sitions of  science.*'^ 

Flere  then  at  once  is  one  momentous  doctrine  or 
principle,  which  enters  into  my  own  reasoning,  and 
which  another  ignores,  viz.  the  providence  and  inten- 
tion of  God  ;  and  of  course  there  are  other  principles, 
explicit  or  implicit,  which  are  in  like  circumstances. 

*  "  Docet  naturalis  ratio,  Deum,  ex  ipsa  natura  bonitatis  ac  provi- 
dentiae  suse,  si  velit  in  mundo  habere  religionem  puram,  eamque 
instituere  ac  conservare  usque  in  finem  mundi,  teneri  ad  cam  religio- 
nem reddendam  evidenter  credibiliorem  ac  verisimiliorem  caeteris,  etc., 
etc.  ...  Ex  hoc  sequitur  ulterius  ;  certitudinem  moralem  de  vera 
Ecclesia  elevari  posse  ad  certitudinem  metaphysicam,  si  homo 
advertat,  certitudinem  moralem  absolute  fallibilem  substare  in  ma- 
teria religionis  circa  ejus  constitutiva  fundamentaliaspeciali  providen- 
tise  divinsc,  praeservatrici  ab  omni  errore.  .  .  .  Itaque  homo  semel 
ex  serie  historica  actorum  perductus  ad  moralem  certitudinem  de 
auctofe,  fundatione,  propagatione,  et  continuatione  Ecclesiae  Chris- 
tianse,  per  reflexionem  ad  existentiam  certissimam  providentise  divinae 
in  materia  religionis,  a  priori  lumine  naturae  certitudine  metaphysica 
notam,  eo  ipso  eadem  infallibili  certitudine  intelliget,  argumenta  de 
auctore,  etc.  Ecclesiae  Christianae,  quantumvis  de  se  solum  moraliter 
certa,  in  quantum  divinae  providentiae  curatrici  rerum  substantialium 
Religionis  substant,  falli  non  posse." — Amort.  Ethica  Christiana, 
p.  252. 


402  Religio2Ls  Infej^ences, 

It  is  not  wonderful  then,  that,  while  I  can  prove 
Christianity  divine  to  my  own  satisfaction,  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  force  it  upon  any  one  else.  Multitudes 
indeed  I  ought  to  succeed  in  persuading  of  its  truth 
without  any  force  at  all,  because  they  and  I  start 
from  the  same  principles,  and  what  is  a  proof  to  me 
is  a  proof  to  them  ;  but  if  any  one  starts  from  any 
other  principles  but  ours,  I  have  not  the  power  to 
change  his  principles  or  the  conclusion  which  he 
draws  from  them,  any  more  than  I  can  make  a 
crooked  man  straight.  Whether  his  mind  will  ever 
grow  straight,  whether  I  can  do  any  thing  towards 
its  becoming  straight,  whether  he  is  not  responsible, 
responsible  to  his  Maker,  for  being  mentally  crooked, 
is  another  matter ;  still  the  fact  remains,  that  in  any 
inquiry  about  things  in  the  concrete  men  differ  from 
each  other,  not  so  much  in  the  soundness  of  their 
reasoning  as  in  the  principles  which  govern  its  exer- 
cise, that  those  principles  are  of  a  personal  character, 
that  where  there  is  no  common  measure  of  minds, 
there  is  no  common  measure  of  arguments,  and  that 
the  validity  of  proof  is  determined,  not  by  any  scien- 
tific test,  but  by  the  illative  sense. 

Accordingly,  instead  of  saying  that  the  truths  of 
Revelation  depend  on  those  of  Natural  Religion,  it  is 
more  pertinent  to  say  that  belief  in  revealed  truths 
depends  on  belief  in  natural.  Belief  is  a  state  of 
mind ;  belief  generates  belief;  states  of  mind  corre- 
spond to  each  other ;  the  habits  of  thought  and  the 
reasonings  which  lead  us  on  to  a  higher  state  of  belief 
than  our  present,  are  the  very  same  which  we  already 
possess  in  connexion  with  the  lower  state.  Those 
Jews  became  Christians  in  Apostolic  times  who  were 


Revealed  Religion,  403 

alread}'  what  may  be  called  crypto-Christians ;  and 
those  Christians  in  this  day  remain  Christian  only  in 
name,  and  (if  it  so  happen)  at  length  fall  away,  who 
are  nothing  deeper  or  better  than  men  of  the  world, 
savants^  literary  men,  or  politicians. 

That  a  special  preparation  of  mind  is  required  for 
each  separate  department  of  inquiry  and  discussion 
(excepting,  of  course,   that   of  abstract   science)   is 
strongly  insisted  upon  in  a  well-known  passage  of  the 
Nicomachean   Ethics.      Speaking   of  the   variations 
which  are  found  in  the  logical  perfection  of  proof  in 
various    subject-matters,    Aristotle    says,    "A    well- 
educated  man  will  expect  exactness  in  every  class  of 
subjects,  according  as  the  nature  of  the  thing  admits ; 
for  it  is  much  the  same  mistake  to  put  up  with  a 
mathematician   using   probabilities,   and   to   require 
demonstration  of  an  orator.     Each  man  judges  skil- 
fully in  those  things  about  which  he  is  well-informed ; 
it  is  of  these  that  he  is  a  good  judge  ;  viz.  he,  in  each 
subject-matter,  is  a  judge,  who  is  well-educated  in 
that  subject-matter,  and  he  is  in  an  absolute  sense  a 
judge,  who  is  in  all  of  them  Avell-educated."     Again: 
"  Young  men  come  to  be  mathematicians   and   the 
like,  but  they  cannot  possess  practical  judgment ;  for 
this  talent  is  employed   upon   individual   facts,  and 
these  are  learned  only  by  experience ;  and  a  youth 
has  not  experience,  for  experience  is  only  gained  by 
a  course  of  years.     And  so,  again,  it  would  appear 
that  a  boy  may  be  a  mathematician,  but  not  a  philoso- 
pher, or  learned  in  physics,  and  for  this  reason, — 
because  the  one  study  deals  with  abstractions,  while 
the  other  studies  gain  their  principles  from  experi- 
ence, and  in  the  latter  subjects  youths  do  not  give 


404  Religious  Inferences, 

assent,  but  make  assertions,  but  in  the  former  they 
know  what  it  is  that  they  are  handhng." 

These  words  of  a  heathen  philosopher,  laying  down 
broad  principles  about  all  knowledge,  express  a  gene- 
ral rule,  which  in  Scripture  is  applied  authoritatively 
to  the  case  of  revealed  knov/ledge  in  particular  ; — and 
that  not  once  or  twice  only,  but  continually,  as  is  no- 
torious. For  instance : — "  I  have  understood,"  says 
the  Psalmist,  ''  more  than  all  my  teachers,  because 
Thy  testimonies  are  my  meditation."  And  so  our 
Lord :  ''  He  that  hath  ears,  let  him  hear."  ''  If  any 
man  will  do  His  v/ill.  He  shall  know  of  the  doctrine." 
And  "  He  that  is  of  God,  heareth  the  words  of 
God."  Thus  too  the  Angels  at  the  Nativity  an- 
nounce ^'  Peace  to  men  of  good  will.  '  And  we  read 
in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  of  "  L)^dia,  whose  heart 
the  Lord  opened  to  attend  to  those  things  which 
were  said  by  Paul."  And  we  are  told  on  another  oc- 
casion, that  "  as  many  as  were  ordained,"  or  disposed 
by  God,  ''to  life  everlasting,  believed."  And  St. 
John  tells  us, ''  He  that  knoweth  God,  heareth  us  ;  he 
that  is  not  of  God,  heareth  us  not ;  by  this  we  know 
the  spirit  of  truth,  and  the  spirit  of  error." 


Relying  then  on  these  authorities,  human  and 
Divine,  I  have  no  scruple  in  beginning  the  review  I 
shall  take  of  Christianity  by  professing  to  consult  for 
those  only  whose  minds  are  properly  prepared  for  it; 
and  by  being  prepared,  I  mean  to  denote  those  who 
are  imbued  with  the  religious  opinions  and  sentiments 
which  I  have  identified  with  Natural  Religion.  I  do 
not  address  myself  to  those,  who  in  moral  evil  and 


Revealed  Religion.  405 

physical   see  nothing-  more  than  imperfections  of  a 
parallel  nature ;  who  consider  that  the  difference  in 
gravity  between  the  two  is  one  of  degree  only,  not 
of  kind  ;  that  moral  evil  is  merely  the  offspring  of 
physical,  and  that  as  we  remove  the  latter,  so  we  in- 
evitably remove  the  former;  that  there  is  a  progress 
of  the  human  race  which  tends  to  the  annihilation  of 
moral   evil ;    that  knowledge   is   virtue,   and  vice  is 
ignorance  ;  that  sin  is  a  bugbear,  not  a  reality  ;  that 
the  Creator   does   not   punish    except   in  the   sense 
of  correcting ;  that  vengeance  in  Him  would  of  ne- 
cessity be  vindictiveness ;  that  all  that  we  know  of 
Him,  be  it  much   or  little,  is  through  the  laws  of 
nature;  that  miracles  are  impossible;  that  prayer  to 
Him  is  a  superstition ;    that  the  fear  of  Him  is  un- 
manly ;    that   sorrow   for   sin   is   slavish  and  abject ; 
that  the  only  intelligible  worship  of  Him  is  to  act  well 
our  part  in  the  world,  and  the  only  sensible  repent- 
ance to  do  better  in  future ;  that  if  we  do  our  duties 
in  this  life,  we  may  take  our  chance  for  the  next ;  and 
that  it  is  of  no  use  perplexing  our  minds  about  the 
future  state,  for  it  is  all  a  matter  of  guess.      These 
opinions  characterize  a  civilized  age  ;  and  if  I  say  that 
I  will  not  argue  about  Christianity  with  men  who 
hold  them,  I  do  so,  not  as  claiming  any  right  to  be 
impatient  or  peremptory  with  any  one,  but  because 
it  is  plainly  absurd  to  attempt  to  prove  a  second  pro- 
position to  those  who  do  not  admit  the  first. 

I  assume  then  that  the  above  system  of  opinion  is 
simply  false,  inasmuch  as  it  contradicts  the  primary 
teachings  of  nature  in  the  human  race,  wherever  a 
rehgion  is  found  and  its  workings  can  be  ascertained. 
I  assume  the  Presence  of  God  in  our  conscience,  and 


4o6  Religions  lufcixnccs. 

the  universal  experience,  as  keen  as  our  experience 
of  bodily  pain,  of  what  we  call  a  sense  of  sin,  or 
guilt.  This  sense  of  sin,  as  of  something  not  only 
evil  in  itself,  but  an  affront  to  the  good  God,  is  chiefly 
felt  as  regards  one  or  other  of  three  violations  of 
His  Law.  He  Himself  is  Sanctity,  Truth,  and  Love ; 
and  the  three  offences  against  His  Majesty  are  im- 
purity, inveracity,  and  cruelty.  All  men  are  not  dis- 
tressed at  these  offences  alike ;  but  the  piercing  pain 
and  sharp  remorse  which  one  or  other  inflicts  upon 
the  mind,  till  habituated  to  them,  brings  home  to  it 
the  notion  of  what  sin  is,  and  is  the  vivid  type  and 
representative  of  its  intrinsic  hatefulness. 

Starting  from  these  elements,  we  may  determine 
without  difficulty  the  class  of  sentiments,  intellectual 
and  moral,  which  constitute  the  formal  preparation 
for  entering  upon  what  are  called  the  Evidences  of 
Christianity.  These  Evidences,  then,  presuppose  a 
belief  and  perception  of  the  Divine  Presence,  a  re- 
cognition of  His  attributes  and  an  admiration  of  His 
Person  viewed  under  them,  a  conviction  of  the  worth 
of  the  soul  and  of  the  reality  and  momentousness  of 
the  unseen  world,  an  understanding  that,  in  propor- 
tion as  we  partake  in  our  own  persons  of  the  attri- 
butes which  we  admire  in  Him,  we  are  dear  to  Him, 
a  consciousness  on  the  contrary  that  we  are  far  from 
partaking  them,  a  consequent  insight  into  our  guilt 
and  misery,  an  eager  hope  of  reconciliation  to  Him,  a 
desire  to  know  and  to  love  Him,  and  a  sensitive  look- 
ing-out  in  all  that  happens,  whether  in  the  course  of 
nature  or  of  human  life,  for  tokens,  if  such  there  be, 
of  His  bestowing  on  us  what  we  so  greatly  need. 
These  are  specimens  of  the  state  of  mind  for  which  I 


Revealed  Religion.  407 

stipulate  in  those  who  would  inquire  into  the  truth  of 
Christianity ;  and  my  warrant  for  so  definite  a  stipu- 
lation Hes  in  the  teaching,  as  I  have  described  it,  of 
conscience  and  the  moral  sense,  in  the  testimony  of 
those  religious  rites  which  have  ever  prevailed  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  in  the  character  and  conduct 
of  those  who  have  commonly  been  selected  by  the 
popular  instinct  as  the  special  favorites  of  Heaven. 


I  have  appealed  to  the  popular  ideas  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  and  to  the  objects  of  popular  admiration 
and  praise,  as  illustrating  my  account  of  the  prepara- 
tion of  mind  which  is  necessary  for  the  inquirer  into 
Christianity.  Here  an  obvious  objection  occurs,  in 
noticing  which  I  shall  be  advanced  one  step  farther 
in  the  work  which  I  have  undertaken. 

It  may  be  urged,  then,  that  no  appeal  will  avail 
me,  which  is  made  to  religions  so  notoriously  immoral 
as  those  of  paganism ;  nor  indeed  can  it  be  made 
without  an  explanation.  Certainly,  as  regards  ethical 
teaching,  various  religions,  which  have  been  popular 
in  the  w^orld,  have  not  supplied  any ;  and  in  the  corrupt 
state  in  which  they  appear  in  history,  they  are  little 
better  than  schools  of  imposture,  cruelty,  and  impurity. 
Their  objects  of  worship  were  immoral  as  well  as  false, 
and  their  founders  and  heroes  have  been  in  keeping 
with  their  gods.  This  is  undeniable,  but  it  does  not 
destroy  the  use  that  may  be  made  of  their  testimony. 
There  is  a  better  side  of  their  teaching ;  purity  has 
often  been  held  in  reverence,  if  not  practised  ;  ascetics 
have  been  in  honor ;  hospitahty  has  been  a  sacred 
duty ;  and  dishonesty  and  injustice  have  been  under 


4o8  Religions  Inferences. 

a  ban.  Here  then,  as  before,  I  take  our  natural  per- 
ception of  right  and  wrong  as  the  standard  for  deter- 
mining the  characteristics  of  Natural  Religion,  and  I 
use  the  religious  rites  and  traditions  which  are  actu- 
ally found  in  the  world,  only  so  far  as  they  agree 
with  our  moral  sense. 

This  leads  me  to  lay  down  the  general  principle, 
which  I  have  all  along  implied  : — that  no  religion  is 
from  God  which  contradicts  our  sense  of  right  and 
wrong.  Doubtless ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  ought 
to  be  quite  sure  that,  in  a  particular  case  which 
is  before  us,  we  have  satisfactorily  ascertained  what 
the  dictates  of  our  moral  nature  are,  and  that  we 
apply  them  rightly,  and  whether  the  applying  them 
or  not  comes  into  question  at  all.  The  precepts  of  a 
religion  certainly  may  be  absolutely  immoral ;  a  re- 
ligion which  simply  commanded  us  to  lie,  or  to  have 
a  community  of  wives,  would  ipso  facto  forfeit  all  claim 
to  a  divine  origin.  Jupiter  and  Neptune,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  classical  mythology,  are  evil  spirits,  and 
nothing  can  make  them  otherwise.  And  I  should 
in  like  manner  repudiate  a  theology  which  taught 
that  men  were  created  in  order  to  be  wicked  and 
wretched. 

I  alluded  just  now  to  those  who  consider  the  doc- 
trine of  retributive  punishment,  or  of  divine  ven- 
geance, to  be  incompatible  with  the  true  religion  , 
but  I  do  not  see  how  they  can  maintain  their  ground. 
In  order  to  do  so,  they  have  first  to  prove  that  an  act 
of  vengeance  must  be  a  sin  in  our  own  instance;  but 
even  this  is  far  from  clear.  Anger  and  indignation 
against  cruelty  and  injustice,  resentment  of  injuries, 
desire  that  the  false,  the  ungrateful,  and  the  depraved 


Revealed  Religion,  409 

should  meet  with  punishment,  these,  if  not  in  them- 
selves virtuous  feelings,  are  at  least  not  vicious  ;  but, 
first  from  the  certainty  that  it  will  run  into  excess  and 
become  sin,  and  next  because  the  office  of  punishment 
has  not  been  committed  to  us,  and  further  because  it 
is  a  feeling  unsuitable  to  those  who  are  themselves  so 
laden  with  imperfection  and  guilt,  therefore  ven- 
geance, in  itself  allowable,  is  forbidden  to  us.  These 
exceptions  do  not  hold  in  the  case  of  a  perfect  being, 
and  certainly  not  in  the  instance  of  the  Supreme 
Judge.  Moreover,  we  see  that  even  men  have  dif- 
ferent duties,  according  to  their  personal  qualifica- 
tions and  their  positions  in  the  community.  The 
rule  of  morals  is  the  same  for  all ;  and  yet,  notwith- 
standing, what  is  right  in  one  is  not  necessaril}^  right 
in  another.  What  would  be  a  crime  in  a  private 
man  to  do,  is  a  crime  in  a  magistrate  not  to  have 
done :  still  wider  is  the  difference  between  man  and 
his  Maker.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  that,  as  I  have 
observed  above,  retributive  justice  is  the  very  attri- 
bute under  which  God  is  primarily  brought  before 
us  in  the  teachings  of  our  natural  conscience. 

And  further,  we  cannot  determine  the  character  of 
particular  actions,  till  we  have  the  whole  case  before 
us  out  of  which  they  arise;  unless,  indeed,  they  are 
in  themselves  distinctively  vicious.  We  all  feel  the 
force  of  the  maxim,  "Audi  alteram  partem."  It  is 
difficult  to  trace  the  path  and  to  determine  the  scope 
of  Divine  Providence.  We  read  of  a  day  when  the 
Almighty  will  condescend  to  place  His  actions  in 
their  completeness  before  His  creatures,  and  '*  will 
overcome  when  He  is  judged."  If,  till  then,  we  feel 
it  to  be  a  duty  to  suspend  our  judgment  concerning 


4IO  Religious  Infe'}t7ices, 

certain  of  His  actions  or  precepts,  we  do  no  more  than 
what  we  do  every  day  in  the  case  of  an  earthly  friend 
or  enemy,  whose  conduct  in  some  point  requires  ex- 
planation. It  surely  is  not  too  much  to  expect  of 
us  that  v/e  should  act  with  parallel  caution,  and  be 
"  memores  conditionis  nostrse  "  as  regards  the  acts  of 
our  Creator.  There  is  a  poem  of  Parnell's  w^hich 
strikingly  brings  home  to  us  how  differently  the 
divine  appointments  will  look  in  the  light  of  day,  from 
what  they  appear  to  be  in  our  present  twilight.  An 
Angel,  in  disguise  of  a  man,  steals  a  golden  cup, 
strangles  an  infant,  and  throws  a  guide  into  the  stream, 
and  then  explains  to  his  horrified  companion,  that 
acts  which  would  be  enormities  in  man,  are  in  him, 
as  God's  minister,  deeds  of  merciful  correction  or  of 
retribution. 

Moreover,  when  we  are  about  to  pass  judgment  on 
the  dealings  of  Providence  with  other  men,  we  shall 
do  well  to  consider  first  His  deahngs  with  ourselves. 
We  cannot  know  about  others,  about  ourselves  we  do 
know  something ;  and  we  know  that  He  has  ever 
been  good  to  us,  and  not  severe.  Is  it  not  wise  to 
argue  from  what  w^e  actually  know  to  what  we  do 
not  know  ?  It  may  turn  out  in  the  day  of  account, 
that  unforgiven  souls,  while  charging  His  laws  with 
injustice  in  the  case  of  others,  may  be  vuiable  to  find 
fault  with  his  dealings  severally  towards  themselves. 

As  to  those  various  religions  which,  together  with 
Christianity,  teach  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment, 
here  again  wc  ought,  before  we  judge,  to  understand, 
not  only  the  whole  state  of  the  case,  but  what  is 
meant  by  the  doctrine  itself.  Eternity,  or  endless- 
ness, is  in  itself  only  a  negative  idea,  though  punish- 


Revealed  Religion,  4 1 1 

ment  is  positive.  Its  fearful  force,  as  added  to 
punishment,  lies  in  what  it  is  not ;  it  means  no  change 
of  state,  no  annihilation,  no  restoration.  But  it  cannot 
become  a  quality  of  punishment,  any  more  than  a 
man's  living  seventy  years  is  a  quality  of  his  mind,  or 
enters  into  the  idea  of  his  virtues  or  talents.  If  pun- 
ishment be  attended  by  continuity,  or  by  sense  of 
succession,'^  this  must  be  because  it  is  endless  and 
something  more;  such  inflictions  are  an  addition  to 
its  endlessness,  and  do  not  necessarily  belong  to  it 
because  it  is  endless.  As  I  have  already  said,  the 
great  mystery  is,  not  that  evil  has  no  end,  but  that  it 
had  a  beginning.  But  1  submit  the  whole  subject  to 
the  Theological  School. 

3. 

One  of  the  most  important  effects  of  Natural  Re- 
ligion on  the  mind,  in  preparation  for  Revealed,  is 
the  anticipation  which  it  creates,  that  a  Revelation 
will  be  given.  That  earnest  desire  of  it,  which  re- 
ligious minds  cherish,  leads  the  way  to  the  expecta- 
tion of  it.  Those  who  know  nothing  of  the  wounds 
of  the  soul,  are  not  led  to  deal  with  the  question,  or 
to  consider  its  circumstances;  but  when  our  atten- 
tion is  roused,  then,  the  more  steadily  we  dwell  upon 
it,  the  more  probable  does  it  seem  that  a  revelation 
has  been  or  will  be  given  to  us.  This  presentiment 
is  founded  on  our  sense,  on  the   one    hand,  of  the 

*  "  De  hac  damnatorum  saltern  hominum  respiratione,  nihil  adhuc 
certi  decretum  est  ab  Ecclesia  Catholica  :  ut  propterea  non  temere, 
tanquam  absurda,  sit  explodenda  sanctissimorum  Patrum  hsec  opinio  : 
quamvis  a  communi  sensu  Catholicorum  hoc  tempore  sit  aliena." — 
Petavius  de  Angelis,  fin. 


412  Religious  Inferences, 

infinite  goodness  of  God,  and,  on  the  other,  of  our  own 
extreme  misery  and  need — two  doctrines  which  are 
the  primary  constituents  of  Natural  Religion.  It  is 
difficult  to  put  a  limit  to  the  legitimate  force  of  this 
antecedent  probability.  Some  minds  will  feel  it  so 
powerfully,  as  to  recognize  in  it  almost  a  proof, 
without  direct  evidence,  of  the  divinity  of  a  religion 
claiming  to  be  the  true,  supposing  its  history  and 
doctrine  are  free  from  positive  objection,  and  there 
be  no  rival  religion  with  plausible  claims  of  its  own. 
Nor  ought  this  trust  in  a  presumption  to  seem  pre- 
posterous to  those  who  are  so  confident,  on  a  priori 
grounds,  that  the  moon  is  inhabited  by  rational  be- 
ings, and  that  the  course  of  nature  is  never  crossed 
by  miraculous  agency.  Any  how,  very  little  posi- 
tive evidence  seems  to  be  necessary,  when  the  mind 
is  penetrated  by  the  strong  anticipation  which  I  am 
supposing.  It  was'  this  instinctive  apprehension,  as 
Ave  may  conjecture,  which  carried  on  Dionysius  and 
Damaris  at  Athens  to  a  belief  in  Christianity,  though 
St.  Paul  did  no  miracle  there,  and  only  asserted  the 
doctrines  of  the  Divine  Unity,  the  Resurrection,  and 
the  universal  judgment,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
had  had  no  tendency  to  attach  them  to  any  of  the 
mythological  rites  in  which  the  place  abounded. 

Here  my  method  of  argument  differs  from  that 
adopted  by  Paley  in  his  Evidences  of  Christianity. 
This  clear-headed  and  almost  mathematical  reasoner 
postulates,  for  his  proof  of  its  miracles,  only  thus 
much,  that,  under  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  a 
revelation  is  not  improbable.  He  says,  "  We  do  not 
assume  the  attributes  of  the  Deity,  or  the  existence 
of  a  future  state."     ''  It  is  not  necessary  for  our  pur- 


Revealed  Religion.  413 

pose  that  these  propositions  (viz.  that  a  future  exist- 
ence should  be  destined  by  God  for  His  human 
creation,  and  that,  being  so  destined,  He  should  have 
acquainted  them  with  it)  be  capable  of  proof,  or  even 
that,  by  arguments  drawn  from  the  light  of  nature, 
they  can  be  made  out  as  probable ;  it  is  enough  that 
we  are  able  to  say  of  them,  that  they  are  not  so 
violently  improbable,  so  contradictory  to  what  wc 
already  believe  of  the  divine  power  and  character, 
that  [they]  ought  to  be  rejected  at  first  sight,  and  to 
be  rejected  by  whatever  strength  or  complication  of 
evidence  they  be  attested."  He  has  such  confidence 
in  the  strength  of  the  testimony  which  he  can  pro- 
duce in  favor  of  the  Christian  miracles,  that  he  only 
asks  to  be  allowed  to  bring  it  into  court. 

I  confess  to  much  suspicion  of  legal  proceedings 
and  legal  arguments,  when  used  in  questions  whether 
of  history  or  of  philosoph)^  Rules  of  court  are  dic- 
tated by  what  is  expedient  on  the  whole  and  in  the 
long  run ;  but  they  incur  the  risk  of  being  unjust  to 
the  claims  of  particular  cases.  Why  am  I  to  begin 
with  taking  up  a  position  not  my  own,  and  uncloth- 
ing my  mind  of  that  large  outfit  of  existing  thoughts, 
principles,  likings,  desires,  and  hopes,  which  make 
me  what  I  am  ?  If  I  am  asked  to  use  Paley's  argu- 
ment for  my  own  conversion,  I  say  plainly  I  do  not 
w^ant  to  be  converted  by  a  smart  syllogism ;  if  I  am 
asked  to  convert  others  by  it,  I  say  plainly  I  do  not 
care  to  overcome  their  reason  without  touching  their 
hearts.  I  v/ish  to  deal,  not  with  controversiaHsts, 
but  with  inquirers. 

I  think  Paley's  argument  clear,  clever,  and  power- 
ful ;  and  there  is  something  v/hich  looks  like  charity 


414  Religions  Infei^ences. 

in  going  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges,  and 
compelling  men  to  come  in ;  but  in  this  matter  some 
exertion  on  the  part  of  the  persons  whom  I  am  to 
convert  is  a  condition  of  a  true  conversion.  They 
who  have  no  religious  earnestness  are  at  the  mercy, 
day  by  day,  of  some  new  argument  or  fact,  which 
may  overtake  them,  in  favor  of  one  conclusion  or  the 
other.  And  how,  after  all,  is  a  man  better  for  Chris- 
tianity, who  has  never  felt  the  need  of  it  or  the  de- 
sire? On  the  other  hand,  if  he  has  longed  for  a 
revelation  to  enlighten  him  and  to  cleanse  his  heart, 
why  may  he  not  use,  in  his  inquiries  after  it,  that  just 
and  reasonable  anticipation  of  its  probability,  which* 
such  longing  has  opened  the  way  to  his  enter- 
taining ? 

Men  are  too  well  inclined  to  sit  at  home,  instead 
of  stirring  themselves  to  inquire  whether  a  revela- 
tion has  been  given ;  they  expect  its  evidences  to 
come  to  them  without  their  trouble ;  they  act,  not  as 
suppliants,  but  as  judges."  Modes  of  argument  such 
as  Paley's  encourage  this  state  of  mind ;  they  allow 
men  to  forget  that  revelation  is  a  boon,  not  a  debt  on 
the  part  of  the  Giver;  they  treat  it  as  a  mere  histori- 
cal phenomenon.  If  I  was  told  that  some  great  man, 
a  foreigner,  whom  I  did  not  know,  had  come  into 
town,  and  was  on  his  way  to  call  on  me,  and  to  go 
over  my  house,  I  should  send  to  ascertain  the  fact, 
and  meanwhile  should  do  my  best  to  put  my  house 
into  a  condition  to  receive  him.  He  would  not  be 
pleased  if  I  left  the  matter  to  take  its  chance,  and 
went  on  the  maxim  that  seeing  was  believing.      Like 

*  Vid.  Occasional  Sermons,  No.  5. 


Revealed  Religion.  415 

this  is  the  conduct  of  those  who  resolve  to  treat  the 
Almighty  with  dispassionateness,  a  judicial  temper, 
clearheadedness,  and  candor.  It  is  the  way  with 
some  men  (surely  not  a  good  way),  to  say,  that  with- 
out these  lawyerlike  qualifications  conversion  is  im- 
moral. It  is  their  way,  a  miserable  way,  to  pro- 
nounce that  there  is  no  religious  love  of  truth  where 
there  is  fear  of  error.  On  the  contrary,  I  would 
maintain  that  the  fear  of  error  is  simply  necessary  to 
the  genuine  love  of  truth.  No  inquiry  comes  to 
good  which  is  not  conducted  under  a  deep  sense  of 
responsibility,  and  of  the  issues  depending  upon  its 
determination.  Even  the  ordinary  matters  of  lite  are 
an  exercise  of  conscientiousness ;  and  where  con 
science  is,  fear  must  be.  So  much  is  this  acknow- 
ledged just  now,  that  there  is  ahnost  an  affectation, 
in  popular  literature,  in  the  case  of  criticisms  on  the 
fine  arts,  on  poetry,  and  music,  of  speaking  about 
conscientiousness  in  writing,  painting,  or  singing  ; 
and  that  earnestness  and  simplicity  of  mind,  which 
makes  men  fear  to  go  wrong  in  minor  matters,  has 
surely  a  place  in  the  most  serious  of  all  undertakings. 
It  is  on  these  grounds  that,  in  considering  Chris- 
tianity, I  start  with  conditions  different  from  Paley's  ; 
not,  however,  as  undervaluing  the  force  and  the  ser- 
viceableness  of  his  argument,  but  as  preferring  in- 
quiry to  disputation  in  a  question  about  truth. 

4. 

There  is  another  point  on  which  my  basis  of  argu- 
ment differs  from  Paley's.  He  argues  on  the  princi- 
ple that  the  credentials,  which  ascertain  for  us  a 
message  from  above,  are  necessarily  in  their  nature 


41 6  Religious  Inferences, 

miraculous  ;  nor  have  I  any  thought  of  saying  other- 
wise. In  fact,  all  professed  revelations  have  been 
attended,  in  one  shape  or  another,  with  the  profes- 
sion of  miracles ;  and  we  know  how  direct  and 
unequivocal  are  the  miracles  of  both  the  Jewish 
Covenant  and  of  our  OAvn.  However,  my  object 
here  is  to  assume  as  little  as  possible  as  regards  facts, 
and  to  dwell  only  on  what  is  patent  and  notorious; 
and  therefore  I  will  only  insist  on  those  coincidences 
and  their  cumulations,  which,  though  not  in  them- 
selves miraculous,  do  irresistibly  force  upon  us, 
almost  by  the  law  of  our  nature,  the  presence  of 
the  extraordinary  agency  of  Him  whose  being  we 
already  acknowledge.  Though  coincidences  rise 
out  of  a  combination  of  general  laws,  there  is  no 
law  of  those  coincidences ;  they  have  a  character 
of  their  own,  and  seem  left  by  Providence  in  His 
own  hands,  as  the  channel  by  which,  inscrutable  to 
us.  He  may  make  known  to  us  His  will. 

For  instance,  if  I  am  a  believer  in  a  God  of  Truth 
and  Avenger  of  dishonesty,  and  know  for  certain 
that  a  market-woman,  after  calling  on  Him  to  strike 
her  dead  if  she  had  in  her  possession  a  piece  of  mone}'- 
not  hers,  did  fall  down  dead  on  the  spot,  and  that  the 
money  was  found  in  her  hand,  how  can  I  call  this  a 
blind  coincidence,  and  not  discern  in  it  an  act  of 
Providence  over  and  above  its  general  laws?  So, 
certainly,  thought  the  inhabitants  of  an  English  town, 
when  they  erected  a  pillar  as  a  record  of  such  an 
event  at  the  place  where  it  occurred.  And  if  a  Pope 
excommunicates  a  great  conqueror  ;  and  he,  on  hear- 
ing the  threat,  says  to  one  of  his  friends,  "■  Does  he 
think  the  world  has  gone  back  a  thousand  years? 


Revealed  Religion,  4 1 7 

does  he  suppose  the  arms  will  fall  from  the  hands  of 
my  soldiers  ?"  and  Avithin  two  years,  on  the  retreat 
over  the  snoAvs  of  Russia,  as  two  contemporary 
historians  relate,  ''  famine  and  cold  tore  their  arms 
from  the  grasp  of  the  soldiers,"  "  they  fell  from  the 
hands  of  the  bravest  and  most  robust,"  and  ''  desti- 
tute of  the  power  of  raising  them  from  the  ground, 
the  soldiers  left  them  in  the  snow ;"  is  not  this  too, 
though  no  miracle,  a  coincidence  so  special,  as  rightly 
to  be  called  a  Divine  judgment  ?  So  thinks  Alison, 
who  avows  with  religious  honesty,  that  ''there  is 
something  in  these  marvellous  coincidences  beyond 
the  operation  of  chance,  and  which  even  a  Protestant 
historian  feels  himself  bound  to  mark  for  the  obser- 
vation of  future  years."  '^  And  so,  too,  of  a  cumula- 
tion of  coincidences,  separately  less  striking ;  when 
Spelman  sets  about  establishing  the  fact  of  the  ill- 
fortune  which  in  a  multitude  of  instances  has  followed 
upon  acts  of  sacrilege,  then,  even  though  in  many 
instances  it  has  not  followed,  and  in  many  instances 
he  exaggerates,  still  there  may  be  a  large  residuum 
of  cases  which  cannot  be  properly  resolved  into  the 
mere  accident  of  concurrent  causes,  but  must  in  rea- 
son be  considered  the  warning  voice  of  God.  So,  at 
least,  thought  Gibson,  Bishop  of  London,  when  he 
wrote,  "  Many  of  the  instances,  and  those  too  well- 
attested,  are  so  terrible  in  the  event,  and  in  the 
circumstances  so  surprising,  that  no  considering  per- 
son can  well  pass  them  over." 

I  think,  then,  that  the  circumstances  under  which 

a  professed  revelation  comes  to  us,  may  be  such  as 

* 

*  History,  vol.  viii. 


4i8  Religions  Inferences, 

to  impress  both  our  reason  and  our  imagination  with 
a  sense  of  its  truth,  even  though  no  appeal  be  made 
to  strictly  miraculous  intervention — in  saying  which 
I  do  not  mean  of  course  to  imply  that  those  circum- 
stances, when  traced  back  to  their  first  origins,  are 
not  the  outcome  of  such  intervention,  but  that  the 
miraculous  intervention  addresses  us  at  this  day  in 
the  guise  of  those  circumstances  ;  that  is,  of  coinci- 
dences, which  are  indications,  to  the  illative  sense  of 
those  v/ho  believe  in  a  God,  of  His  immediate  Pre- 
sence, especiall}^  to  those  who  in  addition  hold  with 
me  the  strong  antecedent  probability  that,  in  His 
mercy.  He  will  thus  supernaturally  present  Himself 
to  our  apprehension. 

.5. 
Now  as  to  the  fact ;  has  what  is  so  probable  in 
anticipation  actually  been  granted  to  us,  or  have  we 
still  to  look  out  for  it  ?  It  is  very  plain,  supposing  it 
has  been  granted,  which  among  all  the  religions  of  the 
world  comes  from  God :  and  if  it  is  not  that,  a  reve- 
lation is  not  yet  given,  and  v/e  must  look  forward  to 
the  future.  There  is  only  one  religion  in  the  world 
which  tends  to  fulfil  the  aspirations,  needs,  and  fore- 
shadowings  of  natural  faith  and  devotion.  It  may  be 
said,  perhaps,  that,  educated  in  Christianity,  I  merely 
judge  of  it  by  its  own  principles ;  but  this  is  not  the 
fact.  For,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  taken  my  idea  of 
what  a  revelation  must  be,  in  good  measure,  from  the 
actual  religions  of  the  v/orld  ;  and  as  to  its  ethics,  the 
ideas  with  which  I  come  to  it  are  derived  not  simply 
front  the  Gospel,  but  prior  to  it  from  heathen  moral- 
ists, whom  Fathers  of  the  Church  and  Ecclesiastical 


Revealed  Religion,  419 

writers  have  imitated  or  sanctioned ;  and  as  to  the 
intellectual  position  from  which  I  have  contemplated 
the  subject,  Aristotle  has  been  my  master.      Besides, 
I  do  not  here  single  out  Christianity  with  reference 
simply  to  its  particular  doctrines  or  precepts,  but  for 
a  reason  which  is  on  the  surface  of  its  history.     It 
alone  has  a  definite  message  addressed  to  all  man- 
kind.    As  far  as  I  know,  the  religion  of  Mahomet 
has  brought  into  the  world  no  new  doctrine  what- 
ever, except,  indeed,  that  of  its  own  divine  origin ; 
and  the  character  of  its  teaching  is  too  exact  a  reflec- 
tion of  the  race,  time,  place,  and  climate  in  which  it 
arose,  to  admit  of  its  becoming  universal.     The  same 
objection  applies,  so  far  as  I  know,  to  the  religions 
of  the  far  East ;  nor  am  I  sure  of  any  definite  message 
from  God  to  man  which  they  convey  and  protect, 
though  they  may  have  sacred  books.     Christianity, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  in  its  idea  an  announcement,  a 
preaching;    it   is   the   depositary   of  truths   beyond 
human  discovery,  momentous,  practical,  maintained 
one  and  the  same  in  substance  in  every  age  from  its 
first,  and  addressed  to  all  mankind.    And  it  has  actu- 
ally been  embraced  and  is  found  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  in  all  climates,  among  all  races,  in  all  ranks  of 
society,  under  every  degree  of  civilization,  from  bar- 
barism to  the  highest  cultivation  of  mind.     Coming 
to  set  right  and  to  govern  the  world,  it  has  ever  been, 
as  it  ought  to  be,  in  conflict  with  large  masses  of 
men,  with  the  civil  power,  with  physical  force,  with 
adverse  philosophies  ;  it  has  had  successes,  it  has  had 
reverses  ;    but  it  has  had  a  grand  history,  and  has 
effected  great  things,  and  is  as  vigorous  in  its  age  as 
in  its  youth.    In  all  these  respects  it  has  a  distinction 


420  Religious  Infere7ices* 

m  the  world  and  a  pre-eminence  of  its  own ;  it  has 
upon  it  prima  facie  signs  of  divinity ;  I  do  not  know 
what  can  be  advanced  by  rival  religions  to  match 
prerogatives  so  special ;  so  that  I  feel  myself  justified 
in  saying  either  Christianity  is  from  God,  or  a  reve- 
lation has  not  yet  been  given  to  us. 

It  will  not  surely  be  objected,  as  a  point  in  favor 
of  some  of  the  Oriental  religions,  that  they  are  older 
than  Christianity  by  some  centuries ;  3^et,  should  it 
be  so  said,  it  must  be  recollected  that  Christianity  is 
only  the  continuation  and  conclusion  of  what  pro- 
fesses to  be  an  earlier  revelation,  which  may  be 
traced  back  into  pre-historic  times,  till  it  is  lost  in 
the  darkness  that  hangs  over  them.  As  far  as  we 
know,  there  never  was  a  time  when  that  revelation 
was  not, — a  revelation  continuous  and  sj^stematic, 
with  distinct  representatives  and  an  orderly  succes- 
sion. And  this,  I  suppose,  is  far  more  than  can  be 
said  for  the  religions  of  the  East. 

6. 

Here,  then,  I  am  brought  to  the  consideration  of 
the  Hebrew  nation  and  the  Mosaic  religion,  as  the 
first  step  in  the  direct  evidence  for  Christianity. 

The  Jews  are  one  of  the  few  Oriental  nations  who 
are  known  in  history  as  a  people  of  progress,  and 
their  line  is  progress  in  religion.  In  that  their  own 
line  they  stand  by  themselves  among  all  the  popula- 
tions, not  only  of  the  East,  but  of  the  West.  Their 
country  may  be  called  the  classical  home  of  the  reli- 
gious principle,  as  Greece  is  the  home  of  intellectual 
power,  and  Rome  that  of  political  and  practical  wis- 
dom.    Theism  is  their  life ;  it  is  emphatically  their 


Revealed  Religion,  421 

national  religion,  for  they  never  were  without  it,  and 
were  made  a  people  by  means  of  it.  This  is  a  pheno- 
menon singular  and  solitary  in  history,  and  must  have 
a  meaning.  If  there  be  a  God  and  Providence,  it 
must  come  from  Him,  whether  immediately  or  indi- 
rectly ;  and  the  people  themselves  have  ever  main- 
tained that  it  has  been  His  direct  work,  and  has  been 
recognized  by  Him  as  such.  We  are  apt  to  treat 
pretences  to  a  divine  mission  or  to  supernatural 
powers  as  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  on  that  score 
to  dismiss  them  from  our  thoughts  ;  but  we  cannot 
so  deal  with  Judaism.  When  mankind  had  univers- 
ally denied  the  first  lesson  of  their  conscience  by 
lapsing  into  polytheism,  is  it  a  thing  of  slight  moment 
that  there  was  just  one  exception  to  the  rule,  that 
there  was  just  one  people  who,  by  their  rulers  and 
priests,  and  afterwards  by  their  own  unanimous  zeal, 
professed,  as  their  distinguishing  doctrine,  the  Divine 
Unity  and  Government  of  the  world,  and  that,  more- 
over, not  only  as  a  natural  truth,  but  as  revealed  to 
them  by  that  God  Himself  of  whom  they  spoke, — 
who  so  embodied  it  in  their  national  polity,  that  a 
Theocracy  was  the  only  name  by  which  it  could  be 
called  ?  It  was  a  people  founded  and  set  up  in  The- 
ism, kept  together  by  Theism,  and  maintaining  The- 
ism for  a  period  from  first  to  last  of  2000  years,  till 
the  dissolution  of  their  body  politic ;  and  they  have 
maintained  it  since  in  their  state  of  exile  and  wander- 
ing for  2000  years  more.  They  begin  with  the  begin- 
ning of  history,  and  this  august  doctrine  begins  with 
them.  They  are  its  witnesses  and  confessors,  even 
to  torture  and  death  ;  on  this  truth  and  its  revelation 
are  moulded  their  laws  and  government ;    on  this 


422  Religious  Infere7ices. 

their  politics,  philosophy,  and  literature  are  founded ; 
of  this  truth  their  poetry  is  the  voice,  pouring  itself 
out  in  devotional  compositions  which  Christianity, 
through  all  its  many  countries  and  ages,  has  been 
unable  to  rival ;  on  this  aboriginal  truth,  as  time 
goes  on,  prophet  after  prophet  bases  his  further  reve- 
lations, with  a  sustained  reference  to  a  time  when, 
according  to  the  secret  counsels  of  its  Divine  Object 
and  Author,  it  is  to  receive  completion  and  perfec- 
tion,— till  at  length  that  time  comes. 

The  last  age  of  their  history  is  as  strange  as  their 
first.  When  that  time  of  destined  blessing  came, 
which  they  had  so  accurately  marked  out,  and  were 
so  carefully  waiting  for — a  time  which  found  them, 
in  fact,  more  zealous  for  their  Law,  and  for  the  dog- 
ma it  enshrined,  than  they  ever  had  been  before — 
then,  instead  of  any  final  favor  coming  on  them 
from  above,  they  fell  under  the  power  of  their  ene- 
mies, and  were  overthrown,  their  holy  city  razed  to 
the  ground,  their  polity  destroyed,  and  the  remnant 
of  their  people  cast  off  to  wander  far  and  away 
through  every  land  except  their  own,  as  Ave  find 
them  at  this  day  ;  lasting  on,  century  after  centur}^ 
not  absorbed  in  other  populations,  not  annihilated,  as 
likely  to  last  on,  as  unlikely  to  be  restored,  as  far  as 
outward  appearances  go,  now  as  a  thousand  years 
ago.  What  nation  has  so  grand,  so  romantic,  so  ter- 
rible a  history  ?  Does  it  not  fulfil  the  idea  of,  what 
the  nation  calls  itself,  a  chosen  people,  chosen  for 
good  and  evil?  Is  it  not  an  exhibition  in  a  course  of 
history  of  that  primary  declaration  of  conscience,  as 
I  have  been  determining  it, "  With  the  upright  Thou 
shalt  be  upright,  and  with  the  froward  Thou  shalt  be 


Revealed  Religion,  423 

froward  "  ?  It  must  have  a  meaning-,  if  there  is  a 
God.  We  know  what  was  their  witness  of  old  time ; 
what  is  their  witness  now  ? 

Why,  then,  was  it  that,  after  so  memorable  a  career, 
Avhen  their  sins  and  sufferings  were  now  to  come  to 
an  end,  when  they  were  looking  out  for  a  deliverance 
and  a  Deliverer,  suddenly  all  was  reversed  for  once 
and  for  all  ?  They  were  the  favored  servants  of  God, 
and  yet  a  peculiar  reproach  and  note  of  infamy  is 
afhxed  to  their  name.  It  was  their  belief  that  His 
protection  was  unchangeable,  and  that  their  Law 
would  last  for  ever ; — it  was  their  consolation  to  be 
taught  by  an  uninterrupted  tradition,  that  it  could 
not  die,  except  by  changing  into  a  new  self,  more 
wonderful  than  it  was  before ; — it  was  their  faithful 
expectation  that  a  promised  King  was  coming,  the 
Messiah,  who  would  extend  the  sway  of  Israel  over 
all  people  ; — it  was  a  condition  of  their  covenant,  that, 
as  a  reward  to  Abraham,  their  first  father,  the  day  at 
length  should  dawn  when  the  gates  of  their  narrow 
land  should  open,  and  they  should  pour  out  for  the 
conquest  and  occupation  of  the  whole  earth  ; — and,  I 
repeat,  when  the  day  came,  they  did  go  forth,  and 
they  did  spread  into  all  lands,  but  as  hopeless  exiles, 
as  eternal  wanderers. 

Are  we  to  say  that  this  failure  is  a  proof,  that,  after 
all,  there  was  nothing  providential  in  their  history  ? 
For  myself,  I  do  not  see  how  a  second  portent  obli- 
terates a  first;  and,  in  truth,  their  own  testimony  and 
their  own  sacred  books  carry  us  on  towards  a  better 
solution  of  the  difficulty.  I  have  said  they  were  in 
God's  favor  under  a  covenant, — perhaps  they  did  not 
fulfil  the  conditions  of  it.     This  indeed  seems  to  be 


424  Religious  Inferences, 

their  own  account  of  the  matter,  though  it  is  not 
clear  what  their  breach  of  engagement  was.  And 
that  in  some  way  they  did  sin,  whatever  their  sin 
was,  is  corroborated  by  the  well-known  chapter 
in  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy,  which  so  strikingly 
anticipates  the  nature  of  their  punishment.  That 
passage,  translated  into  Greek  as  many  as  350  years 
before  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  b}^  Titus,  has  on  it  the 
marks  of  a  wonderful  prophecy  ;  but  I  am  not  now 
referring  to  it  as  such,  but  merely  as  an  indication 
that  the  disappointment,  which  actually  overtook 
them  at  the  Christian  era,  was  not  necessarily  out  of 
keeping  with  the  original  divine  purpose,  or  again 
with  the  old  promise  made  to  them,  and  their  confi- 
dent expectation  of  its  fulfilment.  Their  national 
ruin,  which  came  instead  of  aggrandizement,  is  de- 
scribed in  that  book  with  an  emphasis  and  minute- 
ness which  prove  that  it  was  contemplated  long 
before,  at  least  as  a  possible  issue  of  the  fortunes  of 
Israel.  Among  other  inflictions  which  should  befall 
the  guilty  people,  it  was  told  them  that  they  should 
fall  down  before  their  enemies,  and  should  be  scat- 
tered throughout  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  ;  that 
they  never  should  have  quiet  in  those  nations,  or 
have  rest  for  the  sole  of  their  foot ;  that  they  were 
to  have  a  fearful  heart  and  languishing  eyes,  and  a 
soul  consumed  with  heaviness  ;  that  they  were  to 
suffer  wrong,  and  to  be  crushed  at  all  times,  and 
to  be  astonished  at  the  terror  of  their  lot ;  that  their 
sons  and  daughters  were  to  be  given  to  another 
people,  and  they  were  to  look  and  to  sicken  all  the 
day,  and  their  life  was  ever  to  hang  in  doubt  before 
them,  and  fear  to  haunt  them  day  and  night;  that 


Revealed  Religion,  425 

they  should  be  a  proverb  and  a  by-word  of  all  peo- 
ple among  whom  they  were  brought ;  and  that  curses 
Avere  to  come  on  them,  and  to  be  signs  and  wonders 
on  them  and  their  seed  for  ever.  Such  are  some 
portions,  and  not  the  most  terrible,  of  this  extended 
anathema ;  and  its  partial  accomplishment  at  an 
earlier  date  of  their  history  was  a  warning  to  them, 
when  the  destined  time  drew  near,  that,  however 
great  the  promises  made  to  them  might  be,  those  pro- 
mises were  dependent  on  the  terms  of  the  covenant 
which  stood  between  them  and  their  Maker,  and 
that,  as  they  had  turned  to  curses  at  that  former  time, 
so  they  might  turn  to  curses  again. 

This  grand  drama,  so  impressed  with  the  charac- 
ters of  supernatural  agency,  concerns  us  here  only  in 
its  bearing  upon  the  evidence  for  the  divine  origin  of 
Christianity  ;  and  it  is  at  this  point  that  Christianity 
comes  upon  the  historical  scene.  It  is  a  notorious 
fact  that  it  issued  from  the  Jewish  land  and  people ; 
and,  had  it  no  other  than  this  historical  connexion 
with  Judaism,  it  would  have  some  share  in  the  pres- 
tige of  its  original  hom.e.  But  it  claims  to  be  far 
more  than  this  ;  it  professes  to  be  the  actual  comple- 
tion of  the  Mosaic  Law,  the  promised  means  of  de- 
liverance and  triumph  to  the  nation,  w^hich  that 
nation  itself,  as  I  have  said,  have  since  considered  to 
be  on  account  of  their  sin  withheld  or  forfeited.  It 
professes  to  be,  not  the  casual,  but  the  legitimate  off- 
spring, heir,  and  successor  of  the  Mosaic  covenant, 
or  rather  to  be  Judaism  itself,  developed  and  trans- 
formed. Of  course  it  has  to  prove  its  claim,  as  well 
as  to  prefer  it ;  but  if  it  succeeds  in  doing  so,  then  all 
those  tokens  of  the  Divine   Presence,  which  distin- 


426  Religious  Inferences. 

guish  the  Jewish  history,  at  once  belong  to  it,  and 
are  a  portion  of  its  credentials. 

And  at  least  the  pi'iind  facie  view  of  its  relations 
towards  Judaism  is  in  favor  of  these  pretensions.  It 
is  an  historical  fact,  that,  at  the  very  time  that  the 
Jew^s  committed  their  unpardonable  sin,  whatever  it 
was,  and  were  driven  out  from  their  home  to  wander 
over  the  earth,  their  Christian  brethren,  born  of  the 
same  stock,  and  equally  citizens  of  Jerusalem,  did  also 
issue  forth  from  the  same  home,  but  in  order  to  svib- 
due  that  same  earth  and  make  it  their  own  ;  that  is, 
they  undertook  the  very  work  which,  according  to 
the  promise,  their  nation  actually  was  ordained  to 
execute ;  and,  with  a  method  of  their  own,  and  with 
a  new  end,  and  only  slowly  and  painfully,  but  still 
really  and  thoroughly,  they  did  it.  And  since  that 
time  the  two  children  of  the  promise  have  ever  been 
found  together — of  the  promise  forfeited  and  the  pro- 
mise fulfilled  ;  and  whereas  the  Christian  has  been  in 
high  place,  so  the  Jew  has  been  degraded  and  de- 
spised— the  one  has  been  "  the  head,"  and  the  other 
''the  tail;"  so  that,  to  go  no  farther,  the  fact  that 
Christianity  actually  has  done  what  Judaism  w^as  to 
have  done,  decides  the  controversy,  by  the  logic  of 
facts,  in  favor  of  Christianity.  The  prophecies  an- 
nounced that  the  Messiah  was  to  come  at  a  definite 
time  and  place ;  Christians  point  to  Him  as  coming 
then  and  there,  as  announced ;  they  are  not  met  by 
any  counter  claim  or  rival  claimant  on  the  part  of  the 
Jews,  only  by  their  assertion  that  He  did  not  come 
at  all,  though  up  to  the  event  they  had  said  He  was 
then  and  there  coming.  Further,  Christianity  clears 
up  the  mystery  which  hangs  over  Judaism,  account- 


Revealed  Religion.  427 

ing  fully  for  the  punishment  of  the  people,  by  speci- 
fying their  sin,  their  heinous  sin.  If,  instead  of  hail- 
ing their  Messiah,  they  crucified  Him,  then  the 
strange  scourge  which  has  pursued  them  after  the 
deed,  and  the  energetic  wording  of  the  curse  before 
it,  are  explained  by  the  very  strangeness  of  their 
guilt ; — or  rather,  their  sin  is  their  punishment ;  for 
in  rejecting  their  Divine  King,  they  ipso  facto  lost  the 
living  principle  and  tie  of  their  nationality.  More- 
over, we  see  what  led  them  into  error ;  they  thought 
a  triumph  and  an  empire  were  to  be  given  to  them 
at  once,  which  were  to  be  the  slow  and  gradual 
growth  of  many  centuries  and  a  long  warfare. 

On  the  whole,  then,  I  observe,  that,  Judaism  having 
been  the  channel  of  rehgious  traditions  which  are 
lost  in  the  depth  of  their  antiquity,  of  course  it  is  a 
great  point  for  Christianity  to  succeed  in  proving 
that  it  is  the  legitimate  heir  to  that  former  religion. 
Nor  is  it  of  less  importance  to  the  significance  of 
those  early  traditions  to  be  able  to  determine  that  they 
were  not  lost  together  with  their  original  storehouse, 
but  were  transferred,  on  the  failure  of  Judaism,  to  the 
custody  of  the  Christian  Church.  And  this  apparent 
correspondence  between  the  two  is  in  itself  a  pre- 
sumption for  the  correspondence  being  real.  Next, 
I  observe,  that  if  the  history  of  Judaism  is  so  wonder- 
ful as  to  suggest  the  presence  of  some  special  divine 
agency  in  its  appointments  and  fortunes,  still  more 
wonderful  and  divine  is  the  history  of  Christianity ; 
and  again  it  is  more  wonderful  still,  that  two  such 
wonderful  creations  should  span  almost  the  whole 
course  of  ages,  during  which  nations  and  states  have 
been  in  existence,  and  should  constitute  a  professed 


428  Religions  Inferences. 

system  of  intercourse  between  earth  and  heaven  from 
first  to  last  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  human  affairs. 
This  phenomenon  again  carries  on  its  face,  to  those 
who  beheve  in  a  God,  the  probability  that  it  has  that 
divine  origin  which  it  professes  to  have ;  and  (when 
viewed  in  the  light  of  the  strong  presumption  which 
I  have  insisted  on,  that  in  God's  mercy  a  revelation 
from  Him  will  be  granted  to  us,  and  of  the  contrast 
presented  by  other  religions,  no  one  of  which  pro- 
fesses to  be  a  revelation  direct,  definite,  and  integral 
as  this  is), — this  phenomenon,  I  say,  of  cumulative 
marvels  raises  that  probability,  both  for  Judaism  and 
Christianity,  in  religious  minds,  almost  to  a  certainty. 

7. 
If  Christianity  is  connected  with  Judaism  as  closely 
as  I  have  been  supposing,  then  there  have  been,  by 
means  of  the  two,  direct  communications  between  man 
and  his  Maker  from  time  immemorial  down  to  this 
day — a  great  prerogative  such,  that  it  is  nowhere  else 
even  claimed.  No  other  religion  but  these  two  pro- 
fesses to  be  the  organ  of  a  formal  revelation,  certainly 
not  of  a  revelation  which  is  directed  to  the  benefit  of 
the  whole  human  race.  Here  it  is  that  INIahometanism 
fails,  though  it  claims  to  carry  on  the  line  of  revelation 
after  Christianity ;  for  it  is  the  mere  creed  and  rite 
of  certain  races,  bringing  with  it  no  gilts  to  our 
nature  as  such,  and  is  rather  a  reformation  of  local 
corruptions,  and  a  return  to  the  ceremonial  worship 
of  earlier  times,  than  a  new  and  larger  revelation. 
And  while  Christianity  was  the  heir  to  a  dead  reli- 
gion, Mahometanism  Avas  little  more  than  a  rebellion 
against  a  living  one.     Moreover,  though   Mahomet 


Revealed  Religion,  429 

professed  to  be  the  Paraclete,  no  one  pretends  that  he 
occupies  a  place  m  the  Christian  Scriptures  as  pro- 
minent as  that  which  the  Messiah  fills  in  the  Jewish. 
To  this  especial  prominence  of  the  Messianic  idea  I 
shall  now  advert ;  that  is,  to  the  prophecies  of  the 
Old  Scriptures,  and  the  argument  which  they  furnish 
in  favor  of  Christianity ;  and  though  I  know  that 
argument  might  be  clearer  and  more  exact  than  it  is, 
and  I  do  not  pretend  here  to  do  much  more  than  refer 
to  the  fact  of  its  existence,  still  so  far  forth  as  we  enter 
into  it,  will  it  strengthen  our  conviction  of  the  claim 
to  divinity  both  of  the  Religion  which  is  the  organ  of 
those  prophecies,  and  of  the  Religion  which  is  their 
object. 

Now  that  the  Jewish  Scriptures  were  in  existence 
long  before  the  Christian  era,  and  were  in  the  sole 
custody  of  the  Jews,  is  undeniable ;  whatever  then 
their  Scriptures  distinctly  say  of  Christianity,  if  not 
attributable  to  chance  or  to  happy  conjecture,  is  pro- 
phetic. It  is  undeniable  too,  that  the  Jews  gathered 
from  those  books  that  a  great  Personage  was  to  be 
born  of  their  stock,  and  to  conquer  the  whole  world 
and  to  become  the  instrument  of  extraordinary  bless- 
ings to  it ;  moreover,  that  he  would  make  his  appear- 
ance at  a  fixed  date,  and  that,  the  very  date  when, 
as  it  turned  out,  our  Lord  did  actually  come.  This 
is  the  great  outline  of  the  prediction,  and  if  wx  are 
able  to  prove  nothing  else,  to  prove  as  much  as  this 
is  far  from  unimportant.  And  it  is  undeniable,  I  say, 
both  that  the  Jewish  Scriptures  contain  thus  much, 
and  that  the  Jews  actually  understood  them  as  con- 
taining it. 

First,  then,  as  to  what  Scripture  declares.     From 


43 o  Religions  Inferences, 

the  book  of  Genesis  we  learn  that  the  chosen  people 
was  set  up  in  this  one  idea,  viz.  to  be  a  blessing-  to 
the  whole  earth,  and  that,  by  means  of  one  of  their 
own  race,  "  a  greater  than  their  father  Abraham." 
This  was  the  meaning  and  drift  of  their  being  chosen. 
There  is  no  opening  for  mistake  here  ;  the  divine  pur- 
pose is  stated  from  the  first  with  the  utmost  precision. 
At  the  very  time  of  Abraham's  call,  he  is  told  of  it : — 
''  I  will  make  of  thee  a  great  nation,  and  in  thee  shall 
all  tribes  of  the  earth  be  blessed."  Thrice  is  this 
promise  and  purpose  announced  in  Abraham's  his- 
tory; and  after  Abraham's  time  it  is  repeated  to 
Isaac,  ''  In  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
be  blessed  ;"  and  after  Isaac  to  Jacob,  when  a  wanderer 
from  his  home,  ''  In  thee  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the 
tribes  of  the  earth  be  blessed."  And  from  Jacob  the 
promise  passes  on  to  his  son  Judah,  and  that  with  an 
addition,  viz.  with  a  reference  to  the  great  Person  who 
was  to  be  the  world-wide  blessing,  and  to  the  date  when 
He  should  come.  Judah  was  the  chosen  son  of  Jacob, 
and  his  staff  or  sceptre,  that  is,  his  patriarchal  autho- 
rity, was  to  endure  till  a  greater  than  Judah  came,  so 
that  the  loss  of  the  sceptre,  when  it  took  place,  was 
the  sign  of  His  near  approach.  ''  The  sceptre,"  says 
Jacob  on  his  death-bed,  ''  shall  not  be  taken  away 
from  Judah,  until  He  come  for  whom  it  is  reserved," 
or  ''  who  is  to  be  sent,"  "■  and  He  shall  be  the  expec- 
tation of  the  nations."  * 

Such    Avas   the   categorical   prophecy,   literal   and 

*  The  Samaritan  Version  reads,  "  donee  veniat  Pacificus,  et  ad  ipsum 
congregabuntur  populi."  The  Targum,  "  donee  veniat  Messias,  cujus 
est  regnum,  et  obedient  populi."  The  Septuagint,  "  donee  veniant 
quae  reservata  sunt  illi  "  (or  "  donee  veniat  cui  reservatum  est"),  "  et 


Revealed  Religion.  431 

unequivocal  in  its  wording,  direct  and  simple  in  its 
scope.  One  man,  born  of  the  chosen  tribe,  was  the 
destined  minister  of  blessing  to  the  whole  world; 
and  the  race,  as  represented  by  that  tribe,  was  to 
lose  its  old  self  in  gaining  a  new  self  in  Him.  Its 
destiny  was  sealed  upon  it  in  its  beginning.  An 
expectation  was  the  measure  of  its  life.  It  was 
created  for  a  great  end,  and  in  that  end  it  had  its 
ending.  Such  were  the  initial  communications  made 
to  the  chosen  people,  and  there  they  stopped ; — as  if 
the  outline  of  promise,  so  sharply  cut,  had  to  be 
effectually  imprinted  on  their  minds,  before  more 
knowledge  was  given  to  them;  as  if,  by  the  long 
interval  of  years  which  passed  before  the  more  varied 
prophecies  in  type  and  figure,  after  the  manner  of 
the  East,  were  added,  the  original  notices  might 
stand  out  in  the  sight  of  all  in  their  severe  explicit- 
ness,  as  archetypal  truths,  and  guides  in  interpreting 
whatever  else  was  obscure  in  its  wording  or  complex 
in  its  direction. 

And  in  the  second  place  it  is  quite  clear  that  the 
Jews  did  thus  understand  their  prophecies,  and  did 

ipse  expectatio  gentium."     And  the  Vulgate,  "  donee  veniat  qui  mit- 
tendus  est,  et  ipse  erit  expectatio  gentium." 

The  ingenious  translation  of  some  learned  men  ("  donee  venerit 
Juda  Siluntem,"  i.e.  "  the  tribe-sceptre  shall  not  depart  from  Judah  till 
Judah  comes  to  Shiloh  "),  with  the  explanation  that  the  tribe  of  Judah 
had  the  leadership  in  the  war  against  the  Canaanites,  vide  Judges  i.  i, 
2  ;  XX.  iS  (i.e.  after  Joshua's  deatli),  and  that  possibly,  and  for  what  we 
know,  the  tribe  gave  up  that  war-command  at  Shiloh,  vide  Joshua 
xviii.  I  (i.e.  in  Joshua's  life-time),  labors  under  three  grave  difficulties  : 
I.  That  the  patriarchal  sceptre  is  a  temporary  war-command.  2.  That 
this  command  belonged  to  Judah  at  the  very  time  that  it  belonged  to 
Joshua.  And  3.  That  it  was  finally  lost  to  Judah  (Joshua  living)  be- 
fore it  had  been  committed  to  him  (Joshua  dead). 


432  Religious  Inferences, 

expect  their  great  Ruler,  in  the  very  age  in  which 
our  Lord  came,  and  in  which  they,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  destroyed,  losing  their  old  self  without 
gaining  their  new.  Heathen  historians  shall  speak 
for  the  fact.  ''  A  persuasion  had  possession  of  most 
of  them,"  says  Tacitus,  speaking  of  their  resistance 
to  the  Romans,  "  that  it  was  contained  in  the  ancient 
books  of  the  priests  that  at  that  very  time  the  East 
should  prevail,  and  that  men  Avho  issued  from  Judea 
should  obtain  the  empire.  The  common  people,  as 
is  the  way  with  human  cupidity,  having  once  inter- 
preted in  their  own  favor  this  grand  destiny,  were 
not  even  by  their  reverses  brought  round  to  the 
truth  of  facts."  And  Suetonius  extends  the  belief: — 
*'  The  whole  East  was  rife  with  an  old  and  persistent 
belief,  that  at  that  time  persons  who  issued  from 
Judea  should  possess  the  empire."  After  the  event 
of  course  the  Jcavs  drew  back,  and  denied  the  cor- 
rectness of  their  expectation,  still  they  could  not 
deny  that  the  expectation  had  existed.  Thus  the 
Jew  Josephus,  who  Avas  of  the  Roman  party,  says 
that  what  encouraged  them  in  the  stand  they  made 
against  the  Romans  was  "  an  ambiguous  oracle,  found 
in  their  sacred  writings,  that  at  that  date  some  one 
of  them  from  that  country  should  rule  the  world." 
He  can  but  pronounce  that  the  oracle  was  ambigu- 
ous ;  he  cannot  state  that  they  thought  it  so. 

Now,  considering  that  at  that  very  time  our  Lord 
did  appear  as  a  teacher,  and  founded  not  merely  a 
religion,  but  (what  was  then  quite  a  new  idea  in  the 
world)  a  system  of  religious  warfare,  an  aggressive 
and  militant  body,  a  dominant  Catholic  Church, 
which   aimed   at  the   benefit  of  all  nations   by  the 


Revealed  Religion.  433 

spiritual  conquest  of  all ;  and  that  this  warfare,  then 
begun  by  it,  has  gone  on  without  cessation  down  to 
this  day,  and  now  is  as  living  and  real  as  ever  it  v\^as ; 
that  that  militant  body  has  from  the  first  filled  the 
world,  that  it  has  had  wonderful  successes,  that  its 
successes  have  on  the  whole  been  of  extreme  benefit 
to  the  human  race,  that  it  has  imparted  an  intelligent 
notion  about  the  Supreme  God  among  millions  who 
would  have  lived  and  died  in  irreligion,  that  it  has 
raised  the  tone  of  morality  wherever  it  has  come,  has 
abolished  great  social  anomalies  and  miseries,  has 
raised  the  female  sex  to  its  proper  dignity,  has  pro- 
tected the  poorer  classes,  has  destroyed  slavery, 
encouraged  literature  and  philosophy,  and  had  a 
principal  part  in  that  civilization  of  human  kind, 
which  with  some  evils  still  has  on  the  whole  been 
productive  of  far  greater  good,— considering,  I  say, 
that  all  this  began  at  the  destined,  expected,  recog- 
nized season  when  the  old  prophecy  said  that  in  one 
]^,Ian,  born  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  all  the  tribes  of  the 
earth  were  to  be  blessed,  I  feel  I  have  a  right  to 
say  (and  my  line  of  argum^ent  does  not  lead  me  to 
say  more),  that  it  is  at  the  very  least  a  remarkable 
coincidence, — that  is,  one  of  those  coincidences  which, 
when  they  are  accumulated,  come  close  upon  the 
idea  of  miracle,  as  being  impossible  without  the 
Hand  of  God  directly  and  imm.ediately  in  them. 

When  we  have  got  as  far  as  this,  we  may  go  on  a 
great  deal  farther.  Announcements,  which  could  not 
be  put  forward  in  the  front  of  the  argument,  as  being 
figurative,  vague,  or  ambiguous,  may  be  used  vahdly 
and  with  great  effect,  when  they  have  been  inter- 
preted for  us,  first  by  the  prophetic  outline,  and  still 


434  Religious  Infere7ices, 

more  by  the  historical  object.  It  is  a  principle  which 
applies  to  all  matters  on  which  we  reason,  that  what 
is  only  a  maze  of  facts,  without  order  or  drift  prior 
to  the  explanation,  may,  when  we  once  have  that 
explanation,  be  located  and  adjusted  with  great  facil- 
ity in  all  its  separate  parts,  as  we  know  is  the  case  as 
regards  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  since  the 
hypothesis  of  Newton.  In  like  manner  the  event  is 
the  true  key  to  prophecy,  and  reconciles  conflicting 
and  divergent  descriptions  by  embodying  them  in 
one  common  representative.  Thus  it  is  that  we  learn 
how,  as  the  prophecies  said,  the  Messiah  could  at 
once  suffer,  yet  be  victorious  ;  His  kingdom  be  Judaic 
in  structure,  yet  evangelic  in  spirit ;  and  His  people 
the  children  of  Abraham,  yet  ''  sinners  of  the  Gen- 
tiles." These  seeming  paradoxes,  are  only  parallel 
and  suitable  to  those  others  which  form  so  prominent 
a  feature  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  and  His 
Apostles. 

As  to  the  Jews,  since  they  lived  before  the  event, 
it  is  not  wonderful,  that,  though  they  were  right  in 
their  general  interpretation  of  Scripture  as  far  as  it 
went,  they  stopped  short  of  the  whole  truth  ;  nay, 
that  even  when  their  Messiah  came,  they  could  not 
recognize  Him  as  the  promised  King  as  we  recog- 
nize Him  now ; — for  we  have  the  experience  of  His 
history  for  nearly  two  thousand  years,  by  which  to 
interpret  their  Scriptures.  We  may  partly  under- 
stand their  position  towards  those  prophecies,  by 
our  own  towards  the  Apocalypse.  Who  can  deny 
the  superhuman  grandeur  and  impressiveness  of  that 
sacred  book !  yet,  as  a  prophecy,  though  some  out- 
lines of  the  future  are  discernible,  how  differently  it 


Revealed  Religion,  435 

affects  us  from  the  predictions  of  Isaiah  !  either  be- 
cause it  relates  to  undreamed-of  events  still  to  come, 
or  because  it  has  been  fuliilled  long  ago  in  events 
which  in  their  detail  and  circumstance  have  never 
become  history.  And  the  same  remark  applies 
doubtless  to  portions  of  the  Messianic  prophecies 
still ;  but,  if  their  fulfilment  has  been  thus  gradual  in 
time  past,  we  must  not  be  surprised  though  portions 
of  them  still  await  their  slow  but  true  accomplish- 
ment in  the  future. 


When  I  said  that  in  some  points  of  view  Christian- 
ity has  not  answered  the  expectations  of  the  old  pro- 
phecies, of  which  it  claims  to  be  the  fulfilment,  I  had 
in  mind  principally  the  contrast  which  is  presented 
to  us  between  the  picture  which  they  draw  of  the 
universality  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  and  that 
partial  development  of  it  through  the  world,  which 
is  all  the  Christian  Church  can  show ;  and  again  the 
contrast  between  the  rest  and  peace  which  they  said 
He  was  to  introduce,  and  the  Church's  actual  history, 
— the  conflicts  of  opinion  which  have  raged  within 
its  pale,  the  violent  acts  and  unworthy  lives  of  many 
of  its  rulers,  and  the  moral  degradation  of  great 
masses  of  its  people.  I  do  not  profess  to  meet  these 
difficulties  here,  except  by  saying  that  the  failure  of 
Chi'istianity  in  corresponding  to  those  prophecies  in 
one  respect  cannot  destroy  the  force  of  its  correspon- 
dence to  them  in  others ;  just  as  we  may  allow  that 
the  portrait  of  a  friend  is  a  faulty  likeness  to  him,  and 
yet  be  quite  sure  that  it  is  his  portrait.  What  I  shall 
actually  attempt  to  show  here  is  this, — that  Christi- 


436  Religious  Inferences, 

anity  was  quite  aware  from  the  first  of  its  own  pros- 
pective future,  and  that  it  meets  the  above  difficul- 
ties by  anticipation,  by  giving  us  its  own  predictions 
of  what  it  was  to  be  in  historical  fact,  predictions 
v/hich  are  at  once  explanatory  comments  upon  the 
Jewish  Scriptures,  and  direct  evidences  of  its  own 
prescience. 

I  think  it  observable  then,  that,  though  our  Lord 
claims  to  be  the  Messiah,  He  shows  so  little  of  con- 
scious dependence  on  the  old  Scriptures,  or  of  anxi- 
ety to  fulfil  them  ;  as  if  it  became  Him,  who  was  the 
Lord  of  the  Prophets,  to  take  His  own  course,  and 
to  leave  the  prophets  to  adjust  themselves  to  Him  as 
they  could,  and  not  to  be  careful  to  accommodate 
Himself  to  them.  The  Evangelists  do  indeed  show 
some  such  natural  zeal  in  His  behalf,  and  thereby 
illustrate  what  I  notice  in  Him  by  the  contrast.  They 
betray  an  earnestness  to  trace  in  Llis  Person  and  his- 
tory the  accomplishment  of  prophecy,  as  when  they 
discern  it  in  His  return  from  Egypt,  in  Llis  life  at 
Nazareth,  in  the  gentleness  and  tenderness  of  His 
mode  of  teaching,  and  in  the  various  minute  occur- 
rences of  His  passion  ;  but  He  Himself  goes  straight 
forward  on  His  way,  of  course  claiming  to  be  the 
Messiah  of  the  Prophets,  still  not  so  much  recurring 
to  past  prophecies,  as  uttering  new  ones,  with  an 
antithesis  not  unlike  that  which  is  so  impressive  in 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  when  He  first  says,  "  It 
has  been  said  by  them  of  old  time,"  and  then  adds, 
''  But  I  say  unto  3'Ou."  Another  striking  instance  of 
this  is  seen  in  the  Names  under  which  He  spoke  of 
Himself,  which  have  little  or  no  foundation  in  any 
thing  which  was  said  of  Him  beforehand  in  the  Jew- 


Revealed  Religion,  437 

ish  Scriptures.  They  speak  of  Him  as  Ruler,  Pro- 
phet, King,  Hope  of  Israel,  Offspring  of  Judah,  and 
Messiah  ;  and  His  Evangelists  and  Disciples  call  Him 
Master,  Lord,  Prophet,  Son  of  David,  King  of  Israel, 
King  of  the  Jews,  and  Messiah  or  Christ ;  but  He 
Himself,  though,  I  repeat,  He  acknowledges  these 
titles  as  His  own,  especially  that  of  the  Christ,  chooses 
as  his  special  designations  these  two.  Son  of  God  and 
Son  of  Man,  the  latter  of  which  is  only  once  given 
Him  in  the  Old  Scriptures,  and  by  which  He  cor- 
rects any  narrow  Judaic  Interpretation  of  them  ; 
while  the  former  Avas  never  distinctly  used  of  Him 
before  He  came,  and  seems  first  to  have  been  an- 
nounced to  the  world  by  the  Angel  Gabriel  and  St. 
John  the  Baptist.  In  those  two  Names,  Son  of  God 
and  Son  of  Man,  declaratory  of  the  two  natures  of 
Emmanuel,  He  separates  Himself  from  the  Jewish 
Dispensation,  in  which  He  was  born,  and  inaugurates 
the  New  Covenant. 

This  is  not  an  accident,  and  I  shall  now  give  some 
instances  of  it,  that  is,  of  what  I  may  call  the  inde- 
pendent autocratic  view  which  He  takes  of  His  own 
religion,  into  which  the  old  Judaism  was  melting,  and 
of  the  prophetic  insight  into  its  spirit  and  its  future 
which  that  view  involves.  In  quoting  His  own  say- 
ings from  the  Evangehsts  for  this  purpose,  I  assume 
(of  which  there  is  no  reasonable  doubt)  that  they 
wrote  before  any  historical  events  had  happened  of  a 
nature  to  cause  them  unconsciously  to  modify  or  to 
color  the  language  which  their  Master  used. 

I.  First,  then,  the  fact  has  been  often  insisted  on  as 
a  bold  conception,  unheard  of  before,  and  worthy  of 
divine  origin,  that  He  should  even  project  a  univer- 


438  Religions  Infcrejices. 

sal  religion,  and  that  to  be  effected  by  what  may  be 
called  a  propagandist  movement  from  one  centre. 
Hitherto  it  had  been  the  received  notion  in  the 
world,  that  each  nation  had  its  ov/n  gods.  The  Ro- 
mans legislated  upon  that  basis,  and  the  Jews  had 
held  it  from  the  first,  holding  of  course  also,  that  all 
gods  but  their  own  God  were  idols  and  demons.  It 
is  true  that  the  Jews  ought  to  have  been  taught  by 
their  prophecies  what  was  in  store  for  the  world  and 
for  them,  and  that  their  first  dispersion  through  the 
empire  centuries  before  Christ  came,  and  the  prose- 
lytes which  they  collected  around  them  in  every 
place,  were  a  kind  of  comment  on  the  prophecies 
larger  than  their  own  ;  but  we  see  what  was,  in  fact, 
when  our  Lord  came,  their  expectation  from  those 
prophecies,  in  the  passages  which  I  have  quoted 
above  from  the  Roman  historians  of  His  day.  But 
He  from  the  first  resisted  those  plausible,  but  mis- 
taken interpretations  of  Scripture.  In  His  cradle  He 
had  been  recognized  by  the  Eastern  sages  as  their 
king  ;  the  Angel  announced  that  He  was  to  reign 
over  the  house  of  Jacob  ;  Nathanael,  too,  owned  Him 
as  the  Messiah  with  a  regal  title  ;  but  He,  on  enter- 
ing upon  His  work,  interpreted  these  anticipations  in 
His  own  way,  and  that  not  the  way  of  Theudas  and 
Judas  of  Galilee,  who  took  the  sword,  and  collected 
soldiers  about  them, — nor  the  way  of  the  Tempter, 
who  offered  Him  ''  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world." 
In  the  Evangelists  words,  He  began,  not  to  fight^, 
but  ''  to  preach  ;"  and  further,  to  '' preach  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,"  saying,  ''The  time  is  accomplished, 
and  the  kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand  ;  repent,  and  be- 
lieve the  Gospel."      This  is  the  significant  title,  ''  the 


Revealed  Religion.  439 

kingdom  of  heaven," — the  more  significant,  when 
explained  by  the  attendant  precept  of  repentance 
and  faith, — on  which  He  founds  the  poHty  which  He 
was  estabhshing  from  first  to  last.  One  of  His  last 
sayings  before  He  suffered  Vv^as, "  My  kingdom  is  not 
of  this  world."  And  His  last  words,  before  He  left 
the  earth,  Avhen  His  disciples  asked  Him  about  His 
kingdom,  were  that  they,  preachers  as  they  were, 
and  not  soldiers,  should  '^  be  His  witnesses  to  the  end 
of  the  earth,"  should  "preach  to  all  nations,  begin- 
ning with  Jerusalem,"  should  ''  go  into  the  world  and 
preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature,"  should  "  go 
and  make  disciples  of  all  nations  till  the  consumma. 
tion  of  all  things." 

The  last  Evangelist  of  the  four  is  equally  precise  in 
recording  the  initial  purpose  with  which  our  Lord 
began  His  ministry,  viz.  to  create  an  empire,  not  by 
force,  but  by  persuasion.  "  Light  is  come  into  the 
world ;  every  one  that  doth  evil,  hateth  the  light, 
but  he  that  doth  truth,  cometh  to  the  hght."  "  Lift 
up  your  eyes,  and  see  the  countries,  for  they  are 
white  already  to  harvest."  ''  No  man  can  come  to 
Me,  except  the  Father,  who  hath  sent  Me,  draw  him." 
"  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all 
things  to  Myself." 

Thus,  while  the  Jews,  relying  on  their  Scriptures 
with  great  appearance  of  reason,  looked  for  a  deliv- 
erer who  should  conquer  with  the  sword,  we  find 
that  Christianity,  from  the  first,  not  by  an  after- 
thought upon  trial  and  experience,  but  as  a  funda- 
mental truth,  magisterially  set  right  that  mistake, 
transfiguring  the  old  prophecies,  and  bringing  to 
light,  as  St.  Paul  might  say,  "■  the  mystery  which  had 


440  Religious  Infei^ences, 

been  hidden  from  ages  and  generations,  but  now  was 
made  manifest  in  His  saints,  the  glory  of  this  mystery 
among  the  Gentiles,  Avhich  is  Christ  in  you,"  not 
simply  over  you,  but  in  3'ou,  by  faith  and  love,  ''the 
hope  of  glor}^" 

2.  I    have    partly    anticipated    my    next    remark, 
which  relates  to  the  means  by  which  the  Christian 
enterprise    was    to    be    carried    into    effect.      That 
preaching  was  to  have  a  share  in  the  victories  of  the 
Messiah  was  plain  from  Prophet  and  Psalmist ;   but 
then  Charlemagne  preached,  and  Mahomet  preach- 
ed, with  an  army  to  back  them.     The  same  Psalm 
which  speaks  of  those  ''  who  preach  good  tidings," 
speaks  also  of  their  King's  ''  foot  being  dipped  in  the 
blood  of  His  enemiies  ;"  but  what  is  so  grandly  origi- 
nal in  Christianity  is,  that  on  its  broad  field  of  conflict 
its  preachers  v\^ere  to  be  simply  unarmed,  and  to  suf- 
fer, but  to  prevail.     If  we  were  not  so  familiar  with 
our  Lord's  w^ords,   I  think  they  would  astonish  us. 
"  Behold,  I  send  3^ou  as  sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves." 
This  was  to  be  their  normal  state,  and  so  it  was ;  and 
all  the  promises  and  directions  given  to  them  imply 
it.  ''  Blessed  are  they  that  suffer  persecution  ;"  ''  bless- 
ed are  ye  when  they  revile  you;"    ''the  meek  shall 
inherit  the  earth;"  "resist  not  evil;"  "3'Ou  shall  be 
hated   of  all  men  for  My  Name's  sake;"    "a  man's 
enemies  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household;"  "he 
that  shall  persevere  to  the  end,  he  shall  be  saved." 
What  sort  of  encourasrement  was  this  for  men  who 
were  to  go  about  an  immense  work  ?     Do  men  in 
this  way  send  out  their  soldiers  to  battle,  or  their 
sons  to  India  or  Australia  ?    The  King  of  Israel  hated 
Michaiah,  because   he    always   "prophesied   of  him 


Revealed  Religion,  441 

evil."  *' So  persecuted  they  the  Prophets  that  were 
before  you,"  says  our  Lord.  Yes,  and  the  Prophets 
failed  ;  they  were  persecuted  and  they  lost  the  battle. 
''  Take,  my  brethren,"  says  St.  James,  ''  for  an  exam- 
ple of  suffering  evil,  of  labor  and  patience,  the  Pro- 
phets, who  spake  in  the  Name  of  the  Lord."  They 
were  "racked,  mocked,  stoned,  cut  asunder,  they 
wandered  about, — of  whom  the  world  was  not  wor- 
thy," says  St.  Paul.  What  an  argument  to  encourage 
them  to  aim  at  success  by  suffering,  to  put  before 
them  the  precedent  of  those  who  suffered  and  who 
failed  ! 

Yet  the  first  preachers,  our  Lord's  immediate  dis- 
ciples, saw  no  difficulty  in  a  prospect  to  human  eyes 
so  appalling,  so  hopeless.  How  connatural  this 
strange,  unreasoning,  reckless  courage  was  with 
their  regenerate  state  is  shown  most  signally  in 
St.  Paul,  as  having  been  a  convert  of  later  voca- 
tion. He  was  no  personal  associate  of  our 
Lord's,  yet  how  faithfully  he  echoes  back  our 
Lord's  language !  His  instrument  of  conversion 
is  "  the  foolishness  of  preaching  ;"  "  the  weak  things 
of  the  earth  confound  the  strong  ;"  "  we  hunger  and 
thirst,  and  are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no 
home;"  ''we  are  reviled  and  bless,  we  are  persecu- 
ted, and  blasphemed,  and  are  made  the  refuse  of  this 
world,  and  the  offscouring  of  all  things."  Such  is  the 
intimate  comprehension,  on  the  part  of  one  who  had 
never  seen  our  Lord  on  earth,  and  knew  little  of  His 
original  disciples,  of  the  genius  of  His  teaching  ; — 
and  considering  that  the  prophecies,  upon  Avhich  he 
had  lived  from  his  birth,  for  the  most  part  bear  on 
their  surface  a  contrary  doctrine,  and  that  the  Jev/s 


442  Religiotis  Infei^ences, 

of  that  da}^  did  commonly  understand  them  in  that 
contrary  sense,  we  cannot  deny  that  Christianity,  in 
tracing  out  the  method  by  which  it  was  to  prevail  in 
the  future,  took  its  own,  independent  line,  and,  in 
assigning  from  the  first  a  rule  and  a  history  to  its 
propagation,  a  rule  and  a  history  which  have  been 
carried  out  to  this  day,  rescues  itself  from  the  charge 
of  but  partially  fulfilling  those  Jewish  prophecies,  by 
the  assumption  of  a  prophetical  character  of  its  own. 

3.  Now  we  come  to  a  third  point,  in  which  the 
Divine  Master  explains,  and  in  a  certain  sense  cor- 
rects, the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Covenant,  by  a  more 
exact  interpretation  of  them  from  Himself.  I  have 
granted  that  they  seem  to  say  that  His  coming  would 
issue  in  a  period  of  peace  and  religiousness.  "  Be- 
hold," says  the  Prophet,  ''  a  king  shall  reign  injustice, 
and  princes  shall  rule  in  judgment.  The  fool  shall 
no  more  be  called  prince,  neither  shall  the  deceitful 
be  called  great.  The  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb, 
and  the  leopard  lie  down  with  the  kid.  They  shall 
not  hurt  nor  kill  in  all  My  holy  mountain,  for  the 
earth  is  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the 
covering  waters  of  the  sea." 

These  words  seem  to  predict  a  reversal  of  the  con- 
sequences of  the  fall,  and  that  reversal  has  not  been 
granted  to  us,  it  is  true  ;  but  let  us  consider  how  dis- 
tinctly Christianity  warns  us  against  any  such  antici- 
pation. While  it  is  so  forcibly  laid  down  in  the 
Gospels  that  the  history  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
begins  in  suffering  and  sanctity,  it  is  as  plainly  said 
that  it  results  in  unfaithfulness  and  sin  ;  that  is  to  sa}^, 
that,  though  there  are  at  all  times  many  holy,  many 
religious  men  in  it,  and  that  sanctit}-,  as  at  the  begin- 


Revealed  Religion.  443 

ning,  is  ever  the  life  and  the  substance  and  the  ger- 
minal seed  of  the  Divine  Kingdom,  yet  there  will  be 
many  too,  there  will  be  more,  Avho  by  their  lives  are 
a  scandal  and  injury  to  it,  not  a  defence.  This  again, 
is  an  astonishing  announcement,  and  the  more  so 
when  viewed  in  contrast  with  the  precepts  delivered 
by  our  Lord  in  His  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  His 
description  to  the  Apostles  of  their  Aveapons  and 
their  warfare.  So  perplexing  to  Christians  was  the 
fact  when  fulfilled,  as  it  was  in  no  long  time  on  a 
large  scale,  that  three  of  the  early  heresies  more  or 
less  originated  in  obstinate,  unchristian  refusal  to 
readmit  to  the  privileges  of  the  Gospel  those  who 
had  fallen  into  sin.  Yet  our  Lord's  words  are  ex- 
press :  He  tells  us  that  "  Many  are  called,  few  are 
chosen ;"  in  the  parable  of  the  Marriage  Feast,  the 
servants  who  are  sent  Out  gather  together  ''  all  that 
they  found,  both  bad  and  good ;"  the  foolish  virgins 
''  had  no  oil  in  their  vessels ;"  amid  the  good  seed  an 
enemy  sows  seed  that  is  noxious  or  worthless ;  and 
'  the  kingdom  is  like  to  a  net  which  gathered  togeth- 
er all  kind  of  fishes  ;"  and  "  at  the  end  of  the  world 
the  Angels  shall  go  forth,  and  shall  separate  the 
wicked  from  among  the  just." 

Moreover,  He  not  only  speaks  of  His  rehgion  as 
destined  to  possess  a  wide  temporal  power,  such  that, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  Babylonian,  ''  the  birds  of  the 
air  should  dwell  in  its  branches,"  but  He  opens  the 
prospect  of  ambition  and  rivalry  in  its  leading  mem- 
bers, when  He  warns  His  disciples  against  desiring 
the  first  places  in  His  kingdom ;  nay,  of  grosser  sins, 
in  His  description  of  the  Ruler,  who  ''  began  to  strike 
his   fellow-servants,   and   to   eat   and    drink  and   be 


444  Religio2is  Infere7ices, 

drunken," — passages  which  have  an  awful  signifi- 
cance, considering  what  kind  of  men  have  before  now 
been  His  chosen  representatives,  and  have  sat  in  the 
chair  of  His  Apostles. 

If  then  it  be  objected  that  Christianity  does  not, 
as  the  old  prophets  seem  to  promise,  abolish  sin  and 
irreligion  within  its  pale,  we  may  answer,  not  only 
that  it  did  not  engage  to  do  so,  but  that  actually  in  a 
prophetical  spirit  it  warned  its  followers  against  the 
expectation  of  its  so  doing. 

9- 

According  to  our  Lord's  announcements  before  the 
event,  Christianity  was  to  prevail  and  to  become  a 
great  empire,  and  to  fill  the  earth  ;  but  it  was  to  ac- 
complish this  destiny,  not  as  other  victorious  powers 
had  done,  and  as  the  Jews  expected,  by  force  of  arms 
or  by  other  means  of  this  world,  but  by  the  novel  ex- 
pedient of  sanctity  and  suffering.  If  some  aspiring 
party  of  this  day,  the  great  Orleans  family,  or  a 
branch  of  the  Hohenzollern,  wishing  to  found  a  king- 
dom, were  to  profess,  as  their  only  weapon,  the  prac- 
tice of  virtue,  they  would  not  startle  us  more  than  it 
startled  a  Jew  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  to  be 
told  that  his  glorious  Messiah  Avas  not  to  fight,  but 
simply  to  preach.  It  is  indeed  a  thought  so  strange, 
both  in  its  prediction  and  in  its  fulfilment,  as  urgently 
to  suggest  to  us  that  some  Divine  Power  went  with 
him  who  conceived  and  proclaimed  it.  This  is  what 
I  have  been  saying  ; — now  I  wish  to  consider  the  fact, 
which  was  predicted,  in  itself,  without  reference  to 
its  being  the  subject  both  of  a  prediction  and  of  a 
fulfilment ;  that  is,  the  history  of  the  rise  and  estab- 


Revealed  Religion,  445 

lishment  of  Christianity  ;  and  to  inquire  whether  it 
is  a  history  that  admits  of  being  resolved,  by  any  phi- 
losophical ingenuity,  into  the  ordinary  operation  of 
moral,  social,  or  political  causes. 

As  is  well  kno\vn,  various  Avriters  have  attempted 
to  assign  human  causes  in  explanation  of  the  pheno- 
menon :  Gibbon  especially  has  mentioned  five,  viz. 
the  zeal  of  Christians,  inherited  from  the  Jews,  their 
doctrine  of  a  future  state,  their  claim  to  miraculous 
power,  their  virtues,  and  their  ecclesiastical  organiza- 
tion.    Let  us  briefly  consider  them. 

He  thinks  these  five  causes,  when  combined,  w411 
fairly  account  for  the  event ;  but  he  has  not  thought 
of  accounting  for  their  combination.  If  they  are  ever 
so  available  for  his  purpose,  still  that  availableness 
arises  out  of  their  coincidence,  and  out  of  what  does 
that  coincidence  arise  ?  Until  this  is  explained,  no- 
thing is  explained,  and  the  question  had  better  have 
been  let  alone.  These  presumed  causes  are  quite 
distinct  from  each  other,  and,  I  say,  the  wonder  is, 
what  made  them  come  together.  Hovv^  came  a  multi- 
tude of  Gentiles  to  be  influenced  with  Jewish  zeal  ? 
How  came  zealots  to  submit  to  a  strict,  ecclesiastical 
regime  ?  What  connexion  has  such  a  regime  with  the 
immortahty  of  the  soul  ?  Why  should  immortality, 
a  philosophical  doctrine,  lead  to  belief  in  miracles, 
wdiich  is  a  superstition  of  the  vulgar?  What  ten- 
dency had  miracles  and  magic  to  make  men  austerely 
virtuous  ?  Lastly,  what  power  had  a  code  of  virtue, 
as  calm  and  enlightened  as  that  of  Antoninus,  to 
generate  a  zeal  as  fierce  as  that  of  Maccabseus? 
Wonderful  events  before  now  have  apparently  been 
nothing  but  coincidences,  certainly  ;  but  they  do  not 


44^  Religious  Infei^ences. 

become  less  wonderful  by  cataloguing  their  constitu- 
ent causes,  unless  we  also  show  how  these  came  to  be 
constituent. 

However,  this  by  the  way  ;  the  real  question  is 
this, — are  these  historical  characteristics  of  Christi- 
anity, also  in  matter  of  lact,  historical  causes  of 
Christianity?  Has  Gibbon  given  proof  that  they 
are?  Has  he  brought  evidence  of  their  operation, 
or  does  he  simply  conjecture  in  his  private  judgment 
that  they  operated  ?  Whether  they  were  adapted  to 
accomplish  a  certain  work,  is  a  matter  of  opinion ; 
whether  they  did  accomplish  it  is  a  question  of  fact. 
He  ought  to  adduce  instances  of  their  efficiency 
before  he  has  a  right  to  say  that  they  are  efficient. 
And  the  second  question  is,  Avhat  is  this  effect,  of 
v/hich  they  are  to  be  considered  as  causes  ?  It  is  no 
other  than  this,  the  conversion  of  bodies  of  men  to 
the  Christian  faith.  Let  us  keep  this  in  view.  We 
have  to  determine  whether  these  five  characteristics 
of  Christianity  were  efficient  causes  of  bodies  of  men 
becoming  Christians?  I  think  they  neither  did  effect 
such  conversions,  nor  were  adapted  to  do  so,  and  for 
these  reasons : — 

I.  For  first,  as  to  zeal,  b}^  which  Gibbon  means 
party  spirit,  or  esprit  de  corps ;  this  doubtless  is  a 
motive  principle  w^hen  men  are  already  members  of 
a  bod}^,  but  does  it  operate  in  bringing  them  into  it  ? 
The  Jews  were  born  in  Judaism,  they  had  a  long  and 
glorious  history,  and  would  naturally  feel  and  show 
esprit  de  co?ps  /but  how  did  party  spirit  tend  to  bring 
Jew  or  Gentile  out  of  his  own  place  into  a  new 
society,  and  that  a  society  which  as  yet  scarcely  Avas 
formed  into  a  society  ?     Zeal,  certainly,  may  be  felt 


Revealed  Religion.  447 

for  a  cause,  or  for  a  person  ;  on  this  point  I  shall  speak 
presently ;  but  Gibbon's  idea  of  Christian  zeal  is  no- 
thing- better  than  the  old  wine  of  Judaism  decanted 
into  new  Christian  bottles,  and  would  be  too  Hat  a 
stimulant,  even  if  it  admitted  of  such  a  transference, 
to  be  taken  as  a  cause  of  conversion  to  Christianity 
without  definite  evidence  in  proof  of  the  fact. 
Christians  had  zeal  for  Christianity  after  they  were 
converted,  not  before. 

2.  Next,  as  to  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state.  Gib- 
bon seems  to  mean  by  this  doctrine  the  fear  of  hell ; 
now  certainly  in  this  day  there  are  persons  converted 
from  sin  to  a  religious  life,  by  vivid  descriptions  of 
the  future  punishment  of  the  wicked  ;  but  then  it 
must  be  recollected  that  such  persons  already  believe 
in  the  doctrine  thus  urged  upon  them.  On  the  con- 
trary, give  some  Tract  upon  hell-fire  to  one  of  the 
wild  boys  in  a  large  town,  who  has  had  no  education, 
has  no  faith ;  and,  instead  of  being  startled  by  it,  he 
will  laugh  at  it  as  something  frightfully  ridiculous. 
The  belief  in  Styx  and  Tartarus  was  dying  out  of  the 
world  at  the  time  that  Christianity  came,  as  the 
parallel  belief  now  seems  to  be  dying  out  in  all  classes 
of  our  own  society.  The  doctrine  of  eternal  punish- 
ment does  only  anger  the  multitude  of  men  in  our 
large  towns  now,  and  make  them  blaspheme ;  w^hy 
should  it  have  had  any  other  effect  on  the  heathen 
populations  in  the  age  when  our  Lord  came  ?  Yet  it 
was  among  those  populations,  that  He  and  His  made 
their  way  from  the  first.  As  to  the  hope  of  eternal 
life,  that  doubtless,  as  well  as  the  fear  of  hell,  was  a 
most  operative  doctrine  in  the  case  of  men  who  had 
been  actually  converted,  of  Christians  brought  before 


44^  Religious  Inferences. 

the  magistrate,  or  writhing-  under  torture,  but  the 
thought  of  eternal  glory  does  not  keep  bad  men  from 
a  bad  life  now,  and  why  should  it  convert  them  then 
from  their  pleasant  sins,  to  a  heavy,  mortified,  joyless 
existence,  to  a  life  of  ill-usage,  fright,  contempt,  and 
desolation  ? 

3.  That  the  claim  to  miracles  should  have  any  wide 
influence  in  favor  of  Christianity  among  heathen 
populations,  who  had  plenty  of  portents  of  their  own, 
is  an  opinion  in  curious  contrast  with  the  objection 
against  Christianity  which  has  provoked  an  ansv/er 
from  Paley,  viz.  that  ''  Christian  miracles  are  not 
recited  or  appealed  to,  by  early  Christian  writers 
themselves,  so  fully  or  so  frequently  as  might  have 
been  expected."  Paley  solves  the  difficulty  as  far  as 
it  is  a  fact,  b)^  observing,  as  I  have  suggested,  that  "it 
was  their  lot  to  contend  with  magical  agency,  against 
which  the  mere  production  of  these  facts  was  not 
sufficient  for  the  convincing  of  their  adversaries  :  *'  I 
do  not  know,"  he  continues,  ''  whether  they  them- 
selves thought  it  quite  decisive  of  the  controversy." 
A  claim  to  miraculous  power  on  the  part  of  Chris- 
tians, which  is  so  unfrequent  as  to  become  an  objec- 
tion to  the  fact  of  their  possessing  it,  can  hardly  have 
been  a  principal  cause  of  their  success. 

4.  And  how  is  it  possible  to  imagine  with  Gibbon 
that  what  he  calls  the  ''  sober  and  domestic  virtues  " 
of  Christians,  their  "  aversion  to  the  luxury  of  the 
age,"  their  *'  chastity,  temperance,  and  economy," 
that  these  dull  qualities  were  persuasives  of  a  nature 
to  win  and  melt  the  hard  heathen  heart,  in  spite  too 
of  the  dreary  prospect  of  the  barat/iriun,  tne  amphi- 
theatre, and  the  stake  ?     Did  the  Christian  morality 


Revealed  Religion.  449 

by  its  severe  beaut}^  make  a  convert  of  Gibbon  him- 
self? On  the  contrary,  he  bitterly  says,  ''  It  was  not 
in  this  world  that  the  primitive  Christians  were 
desirous  of  making  themselves  either  agreeable 
or  useful."  ^'  The  virtue  of  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians, like  that  of  the  first  Romans,  was  very  fre- 
quently guarded  by  poverty  and  ignorance."  *'  Their 
gloomy  and  austere  aspect,  their  abhorrence  of  the 
common  business  and  pleasures  of  life,  and  their  fre- 
quent predictions  of  impending  calamities,  inspired 
the  Pagans  with  the  apprehension  of  some  danger 
which  would  arise  from  the  new  sect."  Here  we 
have  not  only  Gibbon  hating  their  moral  and  social 
bearing,  but  his  heathen  also.  How  then  were  those 
heathen  overcome  by  the  amiableness  of  that  which 
they  viewed  with  such  disgust  ?  We  have  here  plain 
proof  that  the  Christian  character  repelled  the  hea- 
then ;  where  is  the  evidence  that  it  converted  them  ? 
5.  Lastly,  as  to  the  ecclesiastical  organization,  this, 
doubtless,  as  time  Avent  on,  was  a  special  characteris- 
tic of  the  new  religion  ;  but  how  could  it  directly  con- 
tribute to  its  extension  ?  Of  course  it  gave  it  strength, 
but  it  did  not  give  it  life.  We  are  not  born  of  bones 
and  muscles.  It  is  one  thing  to  make  conquests, 
another  to  consolidate  an  empire.  Before  Constan- 
tine,  Christians  made  their  great  conquests.  Rules 
are  for  settled  times,  not  for  time  of  Avar.  So  much 
is  this  contrast  felt  in  the  Catholic  Church  now,  that, 
as  is  well  knovv^n,  in  heathen  countries  and  in  coun- 
tries which  have  thrown  off  her  yoke,  she  suspends 
her  diocesan  administration  and  her  Canon  Law,  and 
puts  her  children  under  the  extraordinary,  extra- 
legal jurisdiction  of  Propaganda. 


450  Religious  Inferences, 

This  is  what  I  am  led  to  say  on  Gibbon's  Five 
Causes.  I  do  not  den}^  that  they  might  have  operated 
now  and  then ;  Simon  Magus  came  to  Christianity  in 
order  to  learn  the  craft  of  miracles,  and  Peregrinus 
from  love  of  influence  and  power ;  but  Christianity 
made  its  way,  not  by  individual,  but  by  broad,  Avhole- 
sale  conversions,  and  the  question  is,  how  they  ori- 
ginated ? 

It  is  very  remarkable  that  it  should  not  have  oc- 
curred to  a  man  of  Gibbon's  sagacity  to  inquire,  what 
account  the  Christians  themselves  gave  of  the  matter. 
Would  it  not  have  been  worth  while  for  him  to  have 
let  conjecture  alone,  and  to  have  looked  for  facts  in- 
stead ?  Why  did  he  not  try  the  hypothesis  of  faith, 
hope,  and  charity  ?  Did  he  never  hear  of  love  to- 
wards God,  and  faith  in  Christ  ?  Did  he  not  recol- 
lect the  many  words  of  Apostles,  Bishops,  Apologists, 
Martyrs,  all  forming  one  testimony  ?  No  ;  such 
thoughts  are  close  upon  him,  and  close  upon  the 
truth  ;  but  he  cannot  sympathize  with  them,  he  can- 
not believe  in  them,  he  cannot  even  enter  into  them, 
because  he  needs  the  due  preparation  of  mind.  Let 
us  see  whether  the  facts  of  the  case  do  not  come  out 
clear  and  unequivocal,  if  we  will  but  have  the  patience 
to  endure  them. 

A  Deliverer  of  the  human  race  through  the  Jewish 
nation  had  been  promised  from  time  immemorial. 
The  day  came  when  He  was  to  appear,  and  He  was 
eagerly  expected ;  moreover.  One  actually  did  make 
His  appearance  at  that  date  in  Palestine,  and  claimed 
to  be  He.  He  left  the  earth  without  apparently  do- 
ing much  for  the  object  of  His  coming.  But  when 
He  was  gone.  His  disciples  took  upon  themselves  to 


Revealed  Religion,  451 

go  forth  to  preach  to  all  parts  of  the  earth  w'th  the 
object  of  preaching  Him,  and  collecting  converts  in 
His  name.  After  a  little  while  they  are  found  won- 
derfully to  have  succeeded.  Large  bodies  of  men 
in  various  places  are  to  be  seen,  professing  to  be  His 
disciples,  owning  Him  as  their  King,  and  continually 
swelling  in  number  and  penetrating  into  the  popula- 
tions of  the  Roman  Empire  ;  at  length  they  convert 
the  Empire  itself.  All  this  is  historical  fact.  Now,  we 
want  to  know  the  farther  historical  fact,  viz.  the  cause 
of  their  conversion ;  in  other  words,  what  were  the 
topics  of  that  preaching  which  was  so  effective  ?  If 
we  believe  what  is  told  us  by  the  preachers  and  their 
converts,  the  answer  is  plain.  They  ''  preached 
Christ;"  they  called  on  men  to  believe,  hope,  and 
place  their  affections,  in  that  Deliverer  who  had  come 
and  gone ;  and  the  moral  instrument  by  which  they 
persuaded  them  to  do  so,  was  a  description  of  the 
life,  character,  mission,  and  power  of  that  Deliverer, 
a  promise  of  His  invisible  Presence  and  Protection 
here,  and  of  the  Vision  and  Fruition  of  Him  here- 
after. From  first  to  last  to  Christians,  as  to  Abra- 
ham, He  Himself  is  the  centre  and  fulness  of  the 
dispensation.  They,  as  Abraham,  ''  see  His  day,  and 
are  glad.' 

A  temporal  sovereign  makes  himself  felt  by  means 
of  his  subordinate  administrators,  who  bring  his 
power  and  will  to  bear  upon  every  individual  of  his 
subjects ;  the  universal  Deliverer,  long  expected, 
when  He  came,  instead  of  wielding  a  temporal  sway, 
nay,  instead  of  making  and  securing  subjects  by  a 
visible  graciousness  or  majesty,  departs;  —  but  is 
found,  through  His  preachers,  to  have  imprinted  the 


Rcli^iou^  Iufc?'t?u£s. 


<> 


Image  or  Idea  of  Himself  in  the  minds  of  His  sub- 
jects individually;  and  that  Image,  cherished  and 
worshipped  in  individual  minds,  becomes  a  piinciple 
of  association,  and  a  real  bond  of  those  subjects  one 
with  another,  who  are  thus  united  to  the  body  by 
being  united  to  that  Image ;  and  moreover  that 
Image,  which  is  their  moral  life,  when  they  are 
actuallv  converted,  is  also  the  original  instrument 
of  their  conversion.  It  is  the  Image  of  Him  who 
fnltils  the  one  great  need  of  human  nature,  the 
Healer  of  its  wounds,  the  Physician  of  the  soul,  this 
Image  it  is  which  both  creates  faith,  and  then  re- 
wards it. 

When  we  recognize  this  central  Image  as  the  vivi- 
fving  idea  both  of  the  Christian  body  and  of  individ- 
uals in  it,  then,  certainly,  we  are  able  to  take  into 
account  two,  at  least,  of  Gibbon's  causes,  as  having, 
in  connexion  with  that  idea,  some  influence  both  in 
making  converts  and  in  strengthening  them  to  perse- 
vere. It  was  the  Thought  of  Christ,  not  a  corporate 
bodv  or  a  doctrine,  which  inspired  that  zeal  which 
the  historian  so  poorly  comprehends ;  and  it  was  the 
Thought  of  Christ  which  gave  a  life  to  the  promise 
of  that  eternity,  which  without  Him  would  be,  in 
auv  soul,  nothing  short  of  an  intolerable  burden. 

Now  all  this,  perhaps,  will  be  called  cloudy,  mysti- 
cal, unintelligible  ;  that  is,  in  other  words,  miracu- 
lous. I  think  it  is  so.  How,  without  the  Hand  of 
God,  could  a  new  idea,  one  and  the  same,  enter  at 
once  into  mvriads  of  men,  women,  and  children  ot  all 
ranks,  especiallv  the  lower,  and  have  power  to  wean 
them  from  their  indulgences  and  sins,  and  to  nerve 
them  asrainst  the  most  cruel  tortures,  and  to  last  in 


Revealed  Religion,  453 

vigor  as  a  sustaining  influence  for  seven  or  eight 
generations,  till  it  founded  an  extended  polity,  broke 
the  obstinacy  of  the  strongest  and  wisest  government 
which  the  world  has  ever  seen,  and  forced  its  way 
from  its  first  caves  and  catacombs  to  the  fulness  of 
imperial  power  ? 

Now,  then,  in  considering  this  subject,  I  shall  con- 
fine myself  to  the  proof,  as  far  as  my  limits  allow,  of 
two  points, — first,  that  the  Thought  or  Image  of 
Christ  was  the  principle  of  conversion  and  fellowship  ; 
and  next,  that  among  the  lower  classes,  who  had  no 
power,  influence,  reputation,  or  education,  lay  its 
principal  success.^ 

As  to  the  vivifying  idea,  this  is  St.  Paul's  account 
of  it :  ''I  make  known  to  you  the  gospel  which  I 
preached  to  you,  which  also  you  have  received,  and 
Avherein  3'ou  stand  ;  by  which  also  you  are  saved. 
For  I  delivered  to  you  first  of  all  that  which  I  also 
received,  how  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins  accordinsr 
to  the  Scriptures,"  etc.,  etc.  "  I  am  the  least  of  the 
Apostles  ;  but,  whether  I  or  they,  so  we  preached,  and 
so  you  believed."  ''  It  has  pleased  God  by  the  fool- 
ishness of  preaching  to  save  them  that  believe."  ''  We 
preach  Christ  crucified."  ''  I  determined  to  know 
nothing  among  you,  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  Him  cru- 
cified." ''  Your  Hfe  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  When 
Christ,  who  is  your  Hfe,  shall  appear,  then  you  also 
shall  appear  with  Him  in  glory."  "  I  live,  but  now 
not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me." 

*  Had  my  limits  allowed  it,  I  ought,  as  a  third  subject,  to  have 
described  that  system  of  impure  idolatr)-  from  which  the  converts 
broke  away, — under  the  guidance  of  the  great  work  ("  On  the  Gentile 
and  the  Jew")  of  Dr.  Dollinger. 


454  Religious  Infereizces, 

St.  Peter,  who  has  been  accounted  the  master  of  a 
separate  school,  says  the  same  :  "  Jesus  Christ,  whom 
3^ou  have  not  seen,  yet  love ;  in  whom  you  now  be- 
lieve, and  shall  rejoice." 

And  St.  John,  who  is  sometimes  accounted  a  third 
master  in  Christianity  :  "■  It  hath  not  yet  appeared 
what  we  shall  be ;  but  we  know  that,  when  He  shall 
appear,  we  shall  be  like  to  Him,  because  we  shall  see 
Him  as  He  is." 

That  their  disciples  followed  them  in  this  sover- 
eign devotion  to  an  Invisible  Lord,  will  appear  as  I 
proceed. 

And  next,  as  to  the  worldly  position  and  character 
of  His  disciples,  our  Lord,  in  the  well-known  pas- 
sage, returns  thanks  to  His  Heavenly  Father  "  be- 
cause," He  says,  ''Thou  hast  hid  these  things" — the 
mysteries  of  Llis  kingdom  — "  from  the  wise  and 
prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  to  little  ones." 
And,  in  accordance  with  this  announcement,  St. 
Paul  says  that  ''  not  many  wise  men  according  to  the 
flesh,  not  many  mighty,  not  many  noble,"  became 
Christians.  He,  indeed,  is  one  of  those  few  ;  so  were 
others  his  contemporaries,  and,  as  time  went  on,  the 
number  of  these  exceptions  increased,  so  that  con- 
verts Avere  found,  not  a  few,  in  the  high  places  of  the 
empire,  and  in  the  schools  of  philosophy  and  learn- 
ing ;  but  still  the  rule  held,  that  the  great  mass  of 
Christians  were  to  be  found  in  those  classes  which 
were  of  no  account  in  the  world,  whether  on  the 
score  of  rank  or  of  education. 

We  all  know  this  was  the  case  with  our  Lord  and 
His  Apostles.  It  seems  almost  irreverent  to  speak 
of   their    temporal    employments,   when   we   are   so 


Revealed  Religion,  455 

simply  accustomed  to  consider  them  in  their  spirit- 
ual associations ;  but  it  is  profitable  to  remind  our- 
selves that  our  Lord  Himself  was  a  sort  of  smith, 
and  made  ploughs  and  cattle-yokes.  Four  Apostles 
were  fishermen,  one  a  petty  tax  collector,  two  hus- 
bandmen, one  is  said  to  have  been  a  coachman,  and 
another  a  market-gardener."^  When  Peter  and  John 
were  brought  before  the  Council,  they  are  spoken  of 
as  being,  in  a  secular  point  of  view,  "  illiterate  men, 
and  of  the  lower  sort,"  and  thus  they  are  spoken  of 
in  a  later  age  by  the  Fathers. 

That  their  converts  were  of  the  same  rank  as  them- 
selves, is  reported,  in  their  favor  or  to  their  discredit, 
by  friends  and  enemies,  for  four  centuries.  "  If  a 
man  be  educated,"  says  Celsus  in  mockery,  ''  let  him 
keep  clear  of  us  Christians ;  we  want  no  men  of  wis- 
dom, no  men  of  sense.  We  account  all  such  as  evil. 
No ;  but,  if  there  be  one  who  is  inexperienced,  or 
stupid,  or  untaught,  or  a  fool,  let  him  come  with 
good  heart."  ''  They  are  weavers,"  he  says  else- 
where, ''shoemakers,  fullers,  illiterate,  clowns." 
''  Fools,  low-born  fellows,"  says  Trypho.  ''  The 
greater  part  of  you,"  says  Csecilius,  "■  are  worn  with 
want,  cold,  toil,  and  famine  ;  men  collected  from  the 
lowest  dregs  of  the  people ;  ignorant,  credulous 
women  ;  "  ''  unpolished,  boors,  illiterate,  ignorant  even 
of  the  sordid  arts  of  life ;  they  do  not  understand 
even  civil  matters,  how  can  they  understand  divine?" 
"  They  have  left  their  tongs,  mallets,  and  anvils,  to 

*  On  the  subjects  which  follow,  vid.  Lami,  De  Eruditione  A^osto- 
lorum J  Mamachius,  Origines  Christ.;  Ruinart,  Act.  Mart.;  Lardner, 
Credibility,  etc. ;  Fleury,  Eccles.  Hist. ;  Kortholt,  Caliwin.  Pagatt. ;  and 
De  Morib.  Christ.,  etc. 


456  Religiozis  Inferences. 

preach  about  the  things  of  heaven,"  says  Libanius. 
''  They  deceive  women,  servants,  and  slaves,''  says 
Julian.  The  author  of  Philopatris  speaks  of  them 
as  ''  poor  creatures,  blocks,  withered  old  fellows,  men 
of  downcast  and  pale  visages."  As  to  their  religion, 
it  had  the  reputation  popularly,  according  to  various 
Fathers,  of  being  an  anile  superstition,  the  discovery 
of  old  women,  a  joke,  a  madness,  an  infatuation,  an 
absurdity,  a  fanaticism. 

The  Fathers  themselves  confirm  these  statements, 
so  far  as  they  relate  to  the  insignificance  and  ignor- 
ance of  their  brethren.  Athenagoras  speaks  of  the 
virtue  of  their  "  ignorant  men,  mechanics,  and  old 
women."  "  They  are  gathered,"  says  St.  Jerome, 
''  not  from  the  Academy  or  Lyceum,  but  from  the  low 
populace."  ''  They  are  whitesmiths,  servants,  farm- 
laborers,  woodmen,  men  of  sordid  trades,  beggars," 
says  Theodoret.  ''  We  are  engaged  in  the  farm,  in 
the  market,  at  the  baths,  wine-shops,  stables,  and 
fairs ;  as  seamen,  as  soldiers,  as  peasants,  as  dealers," 
says  TertuUian.  How  came  such  men  to  be  con- 
verted ?  and,  being  converted,  how  came  such  men 
to  overturn  the  world  ?  Yet  they  went  forth  from 
the  first,  ''  conquering  and  to  conquer." 

The  first  manifestation  of  their  formidable  numbers 
is  made  just  about  the  time  when  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul  suffered  martyrdom,  and  was  the  cause  of  a 
terrible  persecution.  We  have  the  account  of  it  in 
Tacitus.  ''Nero,"  he  says,  ''to  put  an  end  to  the 
common  talk  [that  Rome  had  been  set  on  fire  by  his 
order],  imputed  it  to  others,  visiting  with  a  refine- 
ment of  punishment  those  detestable  criminals  who 
went  by  the  name  of  Christians.     The  author  of  that 


KevealecC  Keligion,  457 

denomination  was  Christus,  who  had  been  executed 
in  Tiberius's  time  by  the  procurator,  Pontius  Pilate. 
The  pestilent  superstition,  checked  for  a  while,  burst 
out  again,  not  only  throughout  Judea,  the  first  seat 
of  the  evil,  but  even  throughout  Rome,  the  centre 
both  of  confluence  and  outbreak  of  all  that  is  atro- 
cious and  disgraceful  from  every  quarter.  First 
Avere  arrested  those  who  made  no  secret  of  their 
sect ;  and  by  this  clue  a  vast  multitude  of  others, 
convicted,  not  so  much  of  firing  the  city,  as  of  hatred 
to  the  human  race.  Mockery  was  added  to  death ; 
clad  in  skins  of  beasts,  they  were  torn  to  pieces  by 
dogs ;  they  were  nailed  up  to  crosses ;  they  were 
made  inflammable,  so  that,  when  day  failed,  they 
might  serve  as  lights.  Hence,  guilty  as  they  were, 
and  deserving  of  exemplary  punishment,  they  excited 
compassion,  as  being  destroyed,  not  for  the  public 
welfare,  but  from  the  cruelty  of  one  man." 

The  two  Apostles  suffered,  and  a  silence  follows 
of  a  Avhole  generation.  At  the  end  of  thirty  or  forty 
years,  Pliny,  the  friend  of  Trajan,  as  well  as  of 
Tacitus,  is  sent  as  that  Emperor's  Proprietor  into 
Bithynia,  and  is  startled  and  perplexed  by  the  num- 
ber, influence,  and  pertinacity  of  the  Christians  whom 
he  finds  there,  and  in  the  neighboring  province  of 
Pontus.  He  has  the  opportunity  of  being  far  more 
fair  to  them  than  his  friend  the  historian.  He  writes 
to  Trajan  to  know  how  he  ought  to  deal  with  them, 
and  I  will  quote  some  portions  of  his  letter. 

He  says  he  does  not  know  how  to  proceed  with 
them,  as  their  religion  has  not  received  toleration 
from  the  state.  He  never  was  present  at  any  trial 
of  them ;    he  doubted  whether  the  children  among 


458  Religions  Infeixnces, 

them  ought  to  be  accounted  as  culprits  as  well  as 
grown  people ;  whether  recantation  would  set  mat- 
ters right,  or  whether  they  incur  punishment  all  the 
same;  whether  they  were  to  be  punished,  merely 
because  Christians,  even  though  no  definite  crime 
was  proved  against  them.  His  way  had  been  to 
examine  them,  and  put  questions  to  them ;  if  they 
confessed  the  charge,  he  gave  them  one  or  two 
chances,  threatening  them  with  punishment ;  then,  if 
they  persisted,  he  gave  orders  for  their  execution. 
''  For,"  he  argues,  "  I  felt  no  doubt  that,  whatever 
might  be  the  character  of  their  opinions,  stubborn 
and  inflexible  obstinacy  deserved  punishment.  Others 
there  were  of  a  like  infatuation,  whom,  being  citizens, 
I  sent  to  Rome." 

Some  satisfied  him  ;  they  repeated  after  him  an 
invocation  to  the  gods,  and  offered  wine  and  incense 
to  the  Emperor's  image,  and  in  addition,  cursed  the 
name  of  Christ.  "  Accordingly,"  he  says, ''  1  let  them 
go ;  for  I  am  told  nothing  can  compel  a  real  Christian 
to  do  any  of  these  things."  There  were  others,  too, 
who  sacrificed,  who  had  been  Christians,  some  of 
them  for  as  many  as  twenty  years. 

Then  he  is  curious  to  know  something  more  defin^ 
ite  about  them.  ''  This,  the  informers  told  me,  was 
the  whole  of  their  crime  or  mistake,  that  they  were 
accustomed  to  assemble  on  a  stated  day  before  dawn, 
and  to  say  together  a  hymn  to  Christ  as  a  god,  and  to 
bind  themselves  by  an  oath  [sacramento]  (not  to  any 
crime,  but  on  the  contrary)  to  keep  from  theft,  rob- 
bery, adultery,  breach  of  promise,  and  appropriating 
deposits.  After  this  they  used  to  separate,  and  then 
to  meet  again  for  a  meal,  which  was  social  and  harm- 


Revealed  Religio7i,  459 

less.  However,  they  left  even  that  off,  after  my 
Edict  against  their  meeting." 

This  information  led  him  to  put  to  the  torture  two 
maid-servants,  *'  who  were  called  ministers,"  in  order 
to  find  out  what  was  true,  what  was  false  in  it ;  but 
he  says  he  could  make  out  nothing,  except  a  depraved 
and  excessive  superstition.  This  is  what  led  him  to 
consult  the  Emperor,  "  especially  because  of  the  num- 
ber who  were  implicated  in  it;  for  these  are,  or  are 
likely  to  be,  many,  of  all  ages,  nay,  of  both  sexes. 
For  the  contagion  of  this  superstition  has  spread,  not 
only  in  the  cities,  but  about  the  villages  and  the  open 
country."  He  adds  that  already  there  was  some  im- 
provement. "  The  almost  forsaken  temples  begin  to 
be  filled  again,  and  the  sacred  solemnities  after  a  long 
intermission  are  revived.  Victims,  too,  are  again  on 
sale,  purchasers  having  been  most  rare  to  find." 

The  salient  points  in  this  account  are  these,  that,  at 
the  end  of  one  generation  from  the  Apostles,  nay, 
almost  in  the  lifetime  of  St.  John,  Christians  had  so 
widely  spread  in  a  large  district  of  Asia,  as  nearly  to 
suppress  the  Pagan  religions  there  ;  that  they  were 
people  of  exemplary  lives  ;  that  they  had  a  name  for 
invincible  fidelity  to  their  religion ;  that  no  threats 
or  sufferings  could  make  them  deny  it;  and  that  their 
only  tangible  characteristic  was  the  Avorship  of  our 
Lord. 

This  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  century  ; 
not  a  great  many  years  after,  we  have  another  ac- 
count of  the  Christian  body,  from  an  anonymous 
Greek  Christian,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  whom  he  was 
anxious  to  convert.  It  is  far  too  long  to  quote,  and 
difficult  to  compress  ;  but  a  few  sentences  will  show 


460  Religious  Inferences. 

how  strikingly  it  agrees  Avith  the  account  of  the  hea- 
then Pliny,  especially  in  two  points,— first,  in  the  num- 
bers of  the  Christians,  secondly,  on  devotion  to  our 
Lord  as  the  vivifying  principle  of  their  association. 

''  Christians,"  says  the  writer,  ''  differ  not  from  other 
men  in  country,  or  speech,  or  customs.  They  do  not 
live  in  cities  of  their  own,  or  speak  in  any  peculiar 
dialect,  or  adopt  any  strange  modes  of  living.  They 
inhabit  their  native  countries,  but  as  sojourners  ;  they 
take  their  part  in  all  burdens,  as  if  citizens,  and  in  all 
sufferings,  "as  if  they  were  strangers.  In  foreign 
countries  they  recognize  a  home,  and  in  every  home 
they  see  a  foreign  country.  They  marry  like  other 
men,  but  do  not  disown  their  children.  They  obey 
the  estabhshed  laws,  but  they  go  beyond  them  in  the 
tenor  of  their  lives.  They  love  all  men,  and  are  per- 
secuted by  all;  they  are  not  known,  and  they  are 
condemned  ;  they  are  poor,  and  make  many  rich ; 
they  are  dishonored,  yet  in  dishonor  they  are  glori- 
fied ;  they  are  slandered,  and  they  are  cleared ;  they 
are  called  names,  and  they  bless.  By  the  Jews  they 
are  assailed  as  aliens,  by  the  Greeks  they  are  perse- 
cuted, nor  can  they  who  hate  them  say  why. 

"-  Christians  are  in  the  world,  as  the  soul  in  the 
body.  The  soul  pervades  the  limbs  of  the  body,  and 
Christians  the  cities  of  the  world.  The  flesh  hates 
the  soul,  and  wars  against  it,  though  suft'ering  no 
wrong  from  it ;  and  the  world  hates  Christians.  The 
soul  loves  the  flesh  that  hates  it,  and  Christians  love 
their  enemies.  Their  tradition  is  not  an  earthly  in- 
vention, nor  is  it  a  mortal  thought  which  they  so 
carefully  guard,  nor  a  dispensation  of  human  myste- 
ries which  is  committed  to  their  charge  ;  but   God 


Revealed  Religion,  461 

Himself,  the  Omnipotent  and  Invisible  Creator,  has 
from  heaven  established  among  men  His  Truth  and 
His  Word,  the  Holy  and  Incomprehensible,  and  has 
deeply  fixed  the  same  in  their  hearts ;  not,  as  might 
be  expected,  sending  any  servant,  angel,  or  prince,  or 
administrator  of  things  earthly  or  heavenly,  but  the 
verj'-  Artificer  and  Demiurge  of  the  Universe.  Him 
God  hath  sent  to  man,  not  to  inflict  terror,  but  in 
clemency  and  gentleness,  as  a  King  sending  a  King  who 
Avas  His  Son ;  He  sent  Him  as  God  to  men,  to  save 
them.  He  hated  not,  nor  rejected  us,  nor  remem- 
bered our  guilt,  but  showed  Himself  long-suffering, 
and,  in  His  own  Avords,  bore  our  sins.  He  gave  His 
own  Son  as  a  ransom  for  us,  the  just  for  the  unjust. 
For  what  other  thing,  except  His  Righteousness, 
could  cover  our  guilt?  In  whom  Avas  it  possible  for 
us,  laAvless  siimers,  to  find  justification,  save  in  the 
son  of  God  alone  ?  O  SAveet  interchange  !  O  heavenly 
Avorkmanship  past  finding  out !  O  benefits  exceeding 
expectation  !  Sending,  then,  a  Saviour,  Avho  is  able  to 
save  those  Avho  of  themselves  are  incapable  of  salva- 
tion, He  has  Avilled  that  Ave  should  regard  Him  as 
our  Guardian,  Father,  Teacher,  Counsellor,  Physi- 
cian ;  our  Mind,  Light,  Honor,  Glory,  Strength,  and 
Life."" 

The  Avriting  from  Avhich  I  have  been  quoting  is  of 
the  early  part  of  the  second  century.  Twenty  or 
thirty  years  after  it  St.  Justin  Martyr  speaks  as 
strongly  of  the  spread  of  the  ncAV  Religion :  ''  There 
is  not  any  one  race  of  men,''  he  says,  ''  barbarian  or 
Greek,  nay,  of  those  Avho  live  in  Avaggons,  or  Avho  are 

*  Ep.  ad  Diognet. 


462  Religio2is  Inferences. 

Nomads,  or  Shepherds  in  tents,  among  whom  prayers 
and  eucharists  are  not  offered  to  the  Father  and  INIaker 
of  the  Universe,  through  the  name  of  the  crucified 
Jesus." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  century,  Clement : — "  The 
word  of  our  Master  did  not  remain  in  Judea,  as  philo- 
sophy remained  in  Greece,  but  has  been  poured  out 
over  the  Avhole  world,  persuading  Greeks  and  Bar- 
barians alike,  race  by  race,  village  by  village,  every 
city,  whole  houses,  and  hearers  one  by  one,  nay,  not 
a  few  of  the  philosophers  themselves." 

And  TertuUian,  in  his  Apologia,  at  the  ver}^  close  of 
it,  could  even  proceed  to  threaten  the  Roman  Govern- 
ment:— "We  are  a  people  of  yesterday,"  he  says; 
'^  and  yet  we  have  filled  every  place  belonging  to 
3^ou,  cities,  islands,  castles,  towns,  assemblies,  your 
very  camp,  your  tribes,  companies,  palaces,  senate, 
forum.  We  leave  you  your  temples  only.  We  can 
count  your  armies,  and  our  numbers  in  a  single  pro- 
vince will  be  greater.  In  what  war  with  you  should 
we  not  be  sufficient  and  ready,  even  though  unequal 
in  numbers,  who  so  willingly  are  put  to  death,  if  it 
were  not  in  this  Religion  of  ours  more  lawful  to  be 
slain  than  to  slay  ?" 

Once  more,  let  us  hear  the  great  Origen,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  next  centur}-  : — "  In  all  Greece  and 
in  all  barbarous  races  within  our  w^orld,  there  are 
tens  of  thousands  who  have  left  their  national  laws 
and  customary  gods  for  the  law  of  Moses  and  the 
word  of  Jesus  Christ ;  though  to  adhere  to  that  law 
is  to  incur  the  hatred  of  idolaters,  and  the  risk  of 
death  besides  to  have  embraced  that  word.  And 
considering  how,  in  so  few  years,  in  spite  of  the  at- 


Revealed  Religmi.  463 

tacks  made  on  us,  to  the  loss  of  life  or  property,  and 
with  no  great  store  of  teachers,  the  preaching  of  that 
word  has  found  its  way  into  every  part  of  the  world, 
so  that  Greek  and  barbarians,  wise  and  unwise,  ad- 
here to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  doubtless  it  is  a  work 
greater  than  any  work  of  man." 

We  need  no  proof  to  assure  us  that  this  steady  and 
rapid  growth  of  Christianity  was  a  phenomenon 
which  startled  its  contemporaries,  as  much  as  it  ex- 
cites the  curiosity  of  philosophic  historians  now ; 
and  they  too  then  had  their  ow^n  ways  of  accounting 
for  it,  different  indeed  from  Gibbon's,  but  quite  as 
pertinent,  though  less  elaborate.  These  were  princi- 
pally two,  both  leading  them  to  persecute  it, — the 
obstinacy  of  the  Christians  and  their  magical  powers, 
of  which  the  former  was  the  explanation  adopted  by 
educated  minds,  and  the  latter  chiefly  by  the  popu- 
lace. 

As  to  the  former,  from  first  to  last,  men  in  power 
magisterially  reprobate  the  senseless  obstinacy  of  the 
members  of  the  new  sect,  as  their  characteristic  of- 
fence. Pliny,  as  we  have  seen,  found  it  to  be  their 
only  fault,  but  one  sufficient  to  incur  capital  punish- 
ment. The  Emperor  Marcus  seems  to  consider 
obstinacy  the  ultimate  motive-cause  to  which  their 
unnatural  conduct  was  traceable.  After  speaking  of 
the  soul,  as  '^  ready,  if  it  must  now  be  separated  from 
the  body,  to  be  extinguished,  or  dissolved,  or  to  re- 
main with  it ;"  he  adds, ''  but  the  readiness  must  come 
of  its  own  judgment,  not  from  simple  perverseness, 
as  in  the  case  of  Christians,  but  with  considerateness, 
with  gravity,  and  without  theatrical  effect,  so  as  to 
be  persuasive."     And  Diocletian,  in  his  Edict  of  per- 


464  Religious  Inferences, 

secution,  proiesses  it  to  be  his  "  earnest  aim  to  punish 
the  depraved  persistence  of  those  most  wicked  men." 

As  to  the  latter  charge,  their  founder,  it  was  said, 
had  gained  a  knowledge  of  magic  in  Egypt,  and  had 
left  behind  him  in  his  sacred  books  the  secrets  of  the 
art.  Suetonius  himself  speaks  of  them  as  "  men  of  a 
magical  superstition ;"  and  Celsus  accuses  them  of 
"  incantations  in  the  name  of  demons."  The  officer 
who  had  custody  of  St.  Perpetua,  feared  her  escape 
from  prison  ''  by  magical  incantations."  When  St. 
Tiburtius  had  walked  barefoot  on  hot  coals,  his  judge 
cried  out  that  Christ  had  taught  him  magic.  St.  An- 
astasia  was  thrown  into  prison  for  a  mediciner ;  the 
populace  called  out  against  St.  Agnes,  ''  Away  with 
the  witch  !  away  with  the  sorceress !"  When  St. 
Bonosus  and  St.  INIaximihan  bore  the  burning  pitch 
without  shrinking,  Jews  and  heathen  cried  out, 
''Those  wizards  and  sorcerers."  ''What  new  delu- 
sion," says  the  magistrate  of  St.  Romanus,  in  the 
Hymn  of  Prudentius,  "  has  brought  in  these  sophists 
who  deny  the  worship  of  the  Gods  ?  how  doth  this 
chief  sorcerer  mock  us,  skilled  by  his  Thessalian  charm 
to  laugh  at  punishment  ?"  ''^ 

It  is  indeed  difficult  to  enter  into  the  feelings  of 
irritation  and  fear,  of  contempt  and  amazement,  which 
'were  excited,  whether  in  the  town  populace  or  in  the 
magistrates  in  the  presence  of  conduct  so  novel,  so 
unvarying,  so  absolutely  beyond  their  comprehension. 
The  very  young  and  the  very  old,  the  child,  the 
youth  in  the  heyday  of  his  passions,  the  sober  man 
of  middle  age,  maidens  and  mothers  of  famihes,  boors 

*  Essay  on  Development  of  Doctrine,  p.  228. 


Revealed  Religion.  465 

and  slaves  as  well  as  philosophers  and  nobles,  solitary 
confessors  and  companies  of  men  and  women, — all 
these  were  seen  equally  to  defy  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness to  do  their  worst.  In  this  strange  encounter  it 
became  a  point  of  honor  with  the  Roman  to  break 
the  determination  of  his  victim,  and  it  was  the  tri- 
umph of  faith  when  his  most  savage  expedients  for 
that  purpose  were  found  to  be  in  vain.  The  martyrs 
shrank  from  suffering  like  other  men,  butsuch  natural 
shrinking  was  incom.mensurable  with  apostasy.  No 
intensity  of  torture  had  any  means  of  affecting  what 
was  a  mental  conviction ;  and  the  sovereign  Thought 
in  which  they  had  lived  was  their  adequate  support 
and  consolation  in  their  death.  To  them  the  pros- 
pect of  wounds  and  loss  of  limbs  was  not  more  terri- 
ble than  it  is  to  the  combatant  of  this  Avorld.  They 
faced  the  implements  of  torture  as  the  soldier  takes 
his  post  before  the  enemy's  battery.  They  cheered 
and  ran  forward  to  meet  his  attack,  and  as  it  Avere 
dared  him,  if  he  would,  to  destroy  the  numbers  who 
were  ready  to  close  up  the  foremost  rank,  as  their 
comrades  who  had  filled  it  fell.  And  when  Rome 
at  last  found  she  had  to  deal  with  a  host  of  Scaevolas, 
then  the  proudest  of  earthly  sovereignties,  arrayed 
in  the  completeness  of  her  material  resources,  hum- 
bled herself  before  a  power  which  w^as  founded  on  a 
mere  sense  of  the  unseen. 

In  the  colloquy  of  the  aged  Ignatius,  the  disciple 
of  the  Apostles,  with  the  Emperor  Trajan,  we  have  a 
sort  of  type  of  what  went  on  for  three,  or  rather  four 
centuries.  He  was  sent  all  the  way  from  Antioch  to 
Rome  to  be  devoured  by  the  beasts  in  the  amphithea- 
tre.     As   he  travelled,  he  wrote  letters  to  various 


466  Religio2is  Inferejtces. 

Christian  Churches,  and  among  others  to  his  Roman 
brethren,  among  whom  he  was  to  suffer.  Let  us  see 
whether,  as  I  have  said,  the  Image  of  that  Divine 
King,  who  had  been  promised  from  the  beginning, 
was  not  the  living  principle  of  his  obstinate  resolve. 
The  old  man  is  almost  fierce  in  his  determination  to 
be  martyred.  ''  May  those  beasts,"  he  says  to  his 
brethren,  ''  be  my  gain,  which  are  in  readiness  for 
me !  I  will  provoke  and  coax  them  to  devour  me 
quickly,  and  not  to  be  afraid  of  me,  as  they  are  of 
some  whom  they  will  not  touch.  Should  they  be 
unwilling,  I  will  compel  them.  Bear  with  me ;  I 
know  what  is  my  gain.  Now  I  begin  to  be  a  disci- 
ple. Of  nothing  of  things  visible  or  invisible  am  I 
ambitious,  save  to  gain  Christ.  Whether  it  is  fire  or 
the  cross,  the  assault  of  wild  beasts,  the  wrenching 
of  my  bones,  the  crunching  of  my  limbs,  the  crushing 
of  my  Avhole  bod}'',  let  the  tortures  of  the  devil  all 
assail  me,  if  I  do  but  gain  Christ  Jesus."  Elsewhere 
in  the  same  Epistle  he  says,  "  I  write  to  you,  still 
alive,  but  longing  to  die.  My  Love  is  crucified  !  I 
have  no  taste  for  perishable  food.  I  long  for  God's 
Bread,  heavenly  Bread,  Bread  of  life,  which  is  Flesh 
of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God.  I  long  for  God's 
draught.  His  Blood,  which  is  Love  without  corruption, 
and  Life  for  evermore."  It  is  said  that,  when  he 
came  into  the  presence  of  Trajan,  the  latter  cried  out, 
'^  Who  are  you,  poor  devil,  who  are  so  eager  to  trans- 
gress our  rules  ?"  *'  That  is  no  name,"  he  answered, 
"  for  Theophorus."  "  Who  is  Theophorus  ?"  asked 
the  Emperor.  ''  He  who  bears  Christ  in  his  breast." 
In  the  Apostle's  words,  already  cited,  he  had  "  Christ 
in  him,  the  hope  of  glory."     All  this  may  be  called 


Revealed  Rcligio7i.  467 

enthusiasm ;  but  enthusiasm  affords  a  much  more 
adequate  explanation  of  the  confessorship  of  an  old 
man,  than  do  Gibbon's  five  reasons. 

Instances  of  the  same  ardent  spirit,  and  of  the  liv- 
ing faith  on  which  it  was  founded,  are  to  be  found 
wherever  we  open  the  Acta  Martyrtini.  In  the  out- 
break at  Smyrna,  in  the  middle  of  the  second  century, 
amid  tortures  which  even  moved  the  heathen  by- 
standers to  compassion,  the  sufferers  were  conspicu- 
ous for  their  serene  calmness.  ''  They  made  it  evident 
to  us  all,"  says  the  Epistle  of  the  Church,  ''  that  in 
the  midst  of  those  sufferings  they  Avere  absent  from 
the  body,  or  rather,  that  the  Lord  stood  by  them,  and 
walked  in  the  midst  of  them." 

At  that  time  Polycarp,  the  familiar  friend  of  St. 
John,  and  a  contemporary  of  Ignatius,  suffered  in  his 
extreme  old  age.  When,  before  his  sentence,  the 
Proconsul  bade  him  "  swear  by  the  fortunes  of  C^sar, 
and  have  done  with  Christ,"  his  answer  betrayed  that 
intimate  devotion  to  the  self-same  Idea,  which  had 
been  the  inward  life  of  Ignatius.  ''  Eighty  and  six 
years,"  he  answered,  "  have  I  been  His  servant,  and 
He  has  never  wronged  me,  but  ever  has  preserved 
me ;  and  how  can  I  blaspheme  my  King  and  my 
Saviour?"  When  they  would  have  fastened  him  to 
the  stake,  he  said,  ''  Let  alone ;  He  who  gives  me  to 
bear  the  fire,  will  give  me  also  to  stand  firm  upon 
the  pyre  without  your  nails." 

Christians  felt  it  as  an  acceptable  service  to  Him 
who  loved  them,  to  confess  with  courage  and  to 
suffer  with  dignity.  In  this  chivalrous  spirit,  as  it 
may  be  called,  they  met  the  words  and  deeds  of  their 
persecutors,  as  the  children  of  men  return  bitterness 


468  Religiotts  Inferences. 

for  bitterness,  and  blow  for  blow.  '^  What  soldier," 
sa3'S  Minucius,  ''  does  not  challenge  danger  more 
daringly  under  the  eye  of  his  commander?"  In  that 
same  outbreak  at  Smyrna,  when  the  Proconsul  urged 
the  young  Germanicus  to  have  mercy  on  himself  and 
on  his  youth,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  populace  he 
provoked  a  wild  beast  to  fall  upon  him.  In  like 
manner,  St.  Justin  tells  us  of  Lucius,  who,  when  he 
saw  a  Christian  sent  off  to  suffer,  at  once  remonstra- 
ted sharply  with  the  judge,  and  was  sent  off  to  execu- 
tion with  him  ;  and  then  another  presented  himself, 
and  was  sent  off  also.  When  the  Christians  were 
thrown  into  prison,  in  the  fierce  persecution  at 
Lyons,  Vettius  Epagathus,  a  youth  of  distinction 
who  had  given  himself  to  an  ascetic  life,  could 
not  bear  the  sight  of  the  sufferings  of  his  brethren, 
and  asked  leave  to  plead  their  cause.  The  only 
answer  he  got  was  to  be  made  the  first  to  die. 
What  the  contemporary  account  sees  in  his  conduct 
IS,  not  that  he  was  zealous  for  his  brethren,  though 
zealous  he  was,  nor  that  he  believed  in  miracles, 
though  he  doubtless  did  believe ;  but  that  he  '^  was 
a  gracious  disciple  of  Christ,  following  the  Lamb 
whithersoever  He  went." 

In  that  memorable  persecution,  when  Blandina,  a 
slave,  was  seized  for  confessorship,  her  mistress  and 
her  fellow-Christians  dreaded  lest,  from  her  delicate 
make,  she  should  give  way  under  the  torments;  but 
she  even  tired  out  her  tormentors.  It  was  a  refresh- 
ment and  relief  to  her  to  cry  out  amid  her  pains,  ''  I 
am  a  Christian."  They  remanded  her  to  prison, 
and  then  brought  her  out  for  fresh  sufi'ering  a  second 
day  and  a  third.     On  the  last  day  she  saw  a  bo}^  of 


Revealed  Religion,  469 

fifteen  brought  into  the  amphitheatre  for  death  ;  she 
feared  for  him,  as  others  had  feared  for  her  ;  but  he 
too  went  through  his  trial  generously,  and  went  to 
God  before  her.  Her  last'  sufferings  were  to  be 
placed  in  the  notorious  red-hot  chair,  and  then  to  be 
exposed  in  a  net  to  a  wild  bull ;  they  finished  by  cut- 
ting her  throat.  Sanctus,  too,  when  the  burning 
plates  of  brass  were  placed  on  his  limbs,  all  through 
his  torments  did  hut  say,  ''  I  am  a  Christian,"  and 
stood  erect  and  firm,  '^  bathed  and  strengthened," 
say  his  brethren  who  write  the  account,  "  in  the 
heavenly  well  of  living  water  which  flows  from  the 
breast  of  Christ,"  or,  as  they  say  elsewhere  of  all  the 
martyrs,  ''  refreshed  with  the  joy  of  martyrdom,  the 
hope  of  blessedness,  love  towards  Christ,  and  the 
spirit  of  God  the  Father."  How  clearly  do  we  see 
all  through  this  narrative  what  it  was  which  nerved 
them  for  the  combat !  If  they  love  their  brethren,  it 
is  in  the  fellowship  of  their  Lord ;  if  they  look  for 
heaven,  it  is  because  He  is  the  Light  of  it. 

Epipodius,  a  3^outh  of  gentle  nurture,  when  struck 
by  the  Prefect  on  the  mouth,  while  blood  flowed 
from  it,  cried  out,  "  I  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
God,  together  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost." 
Symphorian,  of  Autun,  also  a  youth,  and  of  noble 
birth,  when  told  to  adore  an  idol,  answered,  ''  Give 
me  leave,  and  I  will  hammer  it  to  pieces."  When 
Leonidas,  the  father  of  the  young  Origen,  was  in 
prison  for  his  faith,  the  boy,  then  seventeen,  burned 
to  share  his  martyrdom,  and  his  mother  had  to  hide 
his  clothes  to  prevent  him  from  executing  his  pur- 
pose. Afterwards  he  attended  the  confessors  in  pri- 
son, stood  by  them  at  the  tribunal,  and  gave  them 


470  Religions  Inferences. 

the  kiss  of  peace  when  they  were  led  out  to  suffer, 
and  this,  in  spite  of  being  several  times  apprehended 
and  put  upon  the  rack.  Also  in  Alexandria,  the 
beautiful  slave,  Potamiasna,  when  about  to  be  strip- 
ped in  order  to  be  thrown  into  the  cauldron  of  hot 
pitch,  said  to  the  Prefect,  ''  I  pray  you  rather  let  me 
be  dipped  down  slowl}^  into  it  with  my  clothes  on, 
and  you  shall  see  with  what  patience  I  am  gifted  by 
Him  of  whom  you  are  ignorant,  Jesus  Christ."  When 
the  populace  in  the  same  city  had  beaten  out  the  aged 
ApoUonia's  teeth,  and  lit  a  fire  to  burn  her,  unless 
she  would  blaspheme,  she  leaped  into  the  fire  her- 
self, and  so  gained  her  crown.  When  Sixtus,  Bishop 
of  Rome,  Avas  led  to  martyrdom,  his  deacon,  Lau- 
rence, followed  him  weeping  and  complaining,  ''  O 
my  father,  whither  goest  thou  without  thy  son?" 
And  when  his  own  turn  came,  three  days  after- 
wards, and  he  was  put  upon  the  gridiron,  after  a 
while  he  said  to  the  Prefect,  "  Turn  me ;  this  side  is 
done."  Whence  came  this  tremendous  spirit,  scar- 
ing, nay,  offending,  the  fastidious  criticism  of  our 
delicate  days  ?  Does  Gibbon  think  to  sound  the 
depths  of  the  eternal  ocean  with  the  tape  and 
measuring-rod  of  his  merely  literary  philosophy? 

When  Barulas,  a  child  of  seven  years  old,  was 
scourged  to  blood  for  repeating  his  catechism  before 
the  heathen  judge — viz.  *'  There  is  but  one  God,  and 
Jesus  Christ  is  true  God  " —  his  mother  encouraged 
him  to  persevere,  chiding  him  for  asking  for  some 
drink.  At  Merida,  a  girl  of  noble  famil}^  of  the  age  of 
twelve,  presented  herself  before  the  tribunal,  and 
overturned  the  idols.  She  Avas  scourged  and  burned 
with  torches ;    she  neither  shed  a  tear,  nor  showed 


Revealed  Religion.  471 

other  signs  of  suffering-.  Whenthe  fire  reached  her 
face,  she  opened  her  mouth  to  receive  it,  and  was  suf- 
focated. At  Csesarea,  a  girl,  under  eighteen,  Avent 
boldly  to  ask  the  prayers  of  some  Christians  who 
were  in  chains  before  the  Prastorium.  She  was  seized 
at  once,  and  her  sides  torn  open  with  the  iron  rakes, 
preserving  the  while  a  bright  and  jo3^ous  countenance. 
Peter,  Dorotheus,  Gorgonius,  were  bo3^s  of  the  impe- 
rial bed-chamber;  they  were  highly  in  favor  with 
their  masters,  and  were  Christians.  They  too  suf- 
fered dreadful  torments,  dying  under  them,  without 
a  shadow  of  wavering.  Call  such  conduct  madness, 
if  you  will,  or  magic ;  but  do  not  mock  us  by  ascrib- 
ing it  in  such  mere  children  to  simple  desire  of  im- 
mortality, or  to  any  ecclesiastical  organization. 

When  the  persecution  raged  in  Asia,  a  vast  multi- 
tude of  Christians  presented  themselves  before  the 
Proconsul,  challenging  him  to  proceed  against  them. 
''  Poor  wretches  !"  half  in  contempt  and  half  in  affright, 
he  answered,  ''  if  you  must  die,  cannot  you  find  ropes 
or  precipices  for  the  purpose  ?"  At  Utica,  a  hundred 
and  fifty  Christians  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages  were 
martyrs  in  one  company.  They  are  said  to  have 
been  told  to  burn  incense  to  an  idol,  or  they  should 
be  thrown  into  a  pit  of  burning  lime  ;  they  without 
hesitation  leapt  into  it.  In  Egypt  a  hundred  and 
twenty  confessors,  after  having  sustained  the  loss  of 
eyes  or  of  feet,  endured  to  linger  out  their  lives  in 
the  mines  of  Palestine  and  Cilicia.  In  the  last  perse- 
cution, according  to  the  testimony  of  the  grave  Euse- 
bius,  a  contemporary,  the  slaughter  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  Avent  on  by  twenties,  sixties,  hundreds, 
till  the  instruments  of  execution  were  worn  out,  and 


4/2  Religions  Inferences. 

the  executioners  could  kill  no  more.  Yet  he  tells  us, 
as  an  eye-witness,  that,  as  soon  as  any  Christians  were 
condemned,  others  ran  from  all  parts,  and  surrounded 
the  tribunals,  confessing  the  faith,  and  joyfully  receiv- 
ing their  condemnation,  and  singing  songs  of  thanks- 
giving and  triumph  to  the  last. 

Thus  was  the  Roman  power  overcome.  Thus  did 
the  Seed  of  Abraham,  and  the  Expectation  of  the 
Gentiles,  the  meek  Son  of  man,  ''  take  to  Himself 
His  great  power  and  reign "  in  the  hearts  of  His 
people,  in  the  public  theatre  of  the  world.  The 
mode  in  which  the  primeval  prophecy  w^as  fulfilled 
is  as  marvellous,  as  the  prophecy  itself  is  clear  and 
bold. 

''  So  may  all  Thy  enemies  perish,  O  Lord  ;  but  let 
them  that  love  Thee  shine,  as  the  sun  shineth  in  his 
rising !" 

I  will  add  the  memorable  words  of  the  two  great 
Apologists  of  the  period  : — 

''  Your  cruelty,"  says  Tertullian,  *'  though  each  act 
be  more  refined  than  the  last,  doth  profit  you  nothing. 
To  our  sect  it  is  rather  an  inducement.  We  grow  up 
in  greater  numbers,  as  often  as  you  cut  us  down. 
The  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  their  seed  for  the  harvest." 

Origen  even  uses  the  language  of  prophec}' .  To 
the  objection  of  Celsus  that  Christianity  from  its 
principles  would,  if  left  alone,  open  the  whole  empire 
to  the  irruption  of  the  barbarians,  and  the  utter  ruin 
of  civilization,  he  replies,  "  If  all  Romans  are  such 
as  we,  then  too  the  barbarians  will  draw  near  to  the 
Word  of  God,  and  will  become  the  most  observant 
of  the  Law.      And   every   worship    shall    come   to 


Revealed  Religion,  473 

naught,  and  that  of  the  Christians  alone  obtain  the 
mastery,  for  the  Word  is  continually  gaining  posses- 
sion of  more  and  more  souls." 

One  additional  remark  : — It  was  fitting  that  those 
mixed  unlettered  multitudes,  who  for  three  centuries 
had  suffered  and  triumphed  by  virtue  of  the  inward 
Vision  of  their  Divine  Lord,  should  be  selected,  as 
we  know  they  were,  in  the  fourth,  to  be  the  special 
champions  of  His  Divinity  and  the  victorious  foes 
of  its  impugners,  at  a  time  when  the  civil  power, 
which  had  found  them  too  strong  for  its  arms,  at- 
tempted, by  means  of  a  portentous  heresy  in  the  high 
places  of  the  Church,  to  rob  them  of  that  Truth  which 
had  all  along  been  the  principle  of  their  strength. 

10. 

I  have  been  forestalling  all  along  the  remark  with 
which  I  shall  close  these  considerations  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Christianity  ;  and  necessarily  so,  because  it 
properly  comes  first,  though  the  course  which  my 
thoughts  have  taken  has  not  allowed  me  to  intro- 
duce it  in  its  natural  place.  Revelation  begins  where 
Natural  Religion  fails.  The  Religion  of  Nature  is  a 
mere  inchoation,  and  needs  a  complement, — it  can 
have  but  one  complement,  and  that  very  complement 
is  Christianity. 

Natural  Religion  is  based  upon  the  sense  of  sin  ; 
it  recognizes  the  disease,  but  it  cannot  find,  it  does 
but  look  out  for  the  remedy.  That  remedy,  both  for 
guilt  and  for  moral  impotence,  is  found  in  the  central 
doctrine  of  Revelation,  the  Mediation  of  Christ.  I 
need  not  go  into  a  subject  so  familiar  to  all  men  in  a 
Christian  country. 


474  Religions  Inferences. 

Thus  it  is  that  Christianity  is  the  fulnhiient  of  the 
promise  made  to  Abraham  and  of  the  INIosaic  revela- 
tions ;  this  is  how  it  has  been  able  from  the  first  to 
occupy  the  world  and  gain  a  hold  on  ever}'-  class  of 
human  society  to  which  its  preachers  reached  ;  this 
is  why  the  Roman  power  and  the  multitude  of  re- 
ligions which  it  embraced  could  not  stand  against  it ; 
this  is  the  secret  of  its  sustained  energy,  and  its  never- 
flagging  martyrdoms  ;  this  is  how  at  present  it  is  so 
mysteriously  potent,  in  spite  of  the  new  and  fearful 
adversaries  which  beset  its  path.  It  has  with  it  that 
gift  of  staunching  and  healing  the  one  deep  wound 
of  human  nature,  which  avails  more  for  its  success 
than  a  full  encyclopedia  of  scientific  knowledge  and 
a  whole  library  of  controversy,  and  therefore  it  must 
last  while  human  nature  lasts.  It  is  a  living  truth 
which  never  can  grow  old. 

Some  persons  speak  of  it  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of 
history,  with  only  indirect  bearings  upon  modern 
times ;  I  cannot  allow  that  it  is  a  mere  historical 
religion.  Certainly  it  has  its  foundations  in  past  and 
glorious  memories,  but  its  power  is  in  the  present. 
It  is  no  dreary  matter  of  antiquarianism ;  we  do  not 
contemplate  it  in  conclusions  drawn  from  dumb  docu- 
ments and  dead  events,  but  by  faith  exercised  in  ever- 
living  objects,  and  by  the  appropriation  and  use  of 
ever-recurring  gifts. 

Our  communion  with  it  is  in  the  unseen,  not  in  the 
obsolete.  At  this  very  day  its  rites  and  ordinances 
are  continually  eliciting  the  active  interposition  of 
that  Omnipotence  in  Avhich  the  Religion  long  ago 
began.  First  and  above  all  is  the  Holy  Mass,  in 
which   He  who  once  died  for  us  upon   the   Cross, 


Revealed  Religion.  475 

brings  back  and  perpetuates,  by  His  literal  presence 
in  it,  that  one  and  the  same  sacrifice  which  cannot  be 
repeated.  Next,  there  is  the  actual  entrance  of 
Himself,  soul  and  body,  and  divinity,  into  the  soul 
and  body  of  every  worshipper  who  comes  to  Him 
for  the  gift,  a  privilege  more  intimate  than  if  we 
lived  with  Him  during  His  long-past  sojourn  upon 
earth.  And  then,  moreover,  there  is  His  personal 
abidance  in  our  churches,  raising  earthly  service 
into  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  Such  is  the  profession  of 
Christianity,  and,  I  repeat,  its  very  divination  of  our 
needs  is  in  itself  a  proof  that  it  is  really  the  supply 
of  them. 

Upon  the  doctrines  which  I  have  mentioned  as 
central  truths,  others,  as  wx  all  know,  follow,  which 
rule  our  personal  conduct  and  course  of  life,  and  our 
social  and  civil  relations.  The  promised  Deliverer, 
the  Expectation  of  the  nations,  has  not  done  His  work 
by  halves.  He  has  given  us  Saints  and  Angels  for 
our  protection.  He  has  taught  us  how  by  our 
prayers  and  services  to  benefit  our  departed  friends, 
and  to  keep  up  a  memorial  of  ourselves  when  we 
are  gone.  He  has  created  a  visible  hierarchy  and  a 
succession  of  sacraments,  to  be  the  channels  of  His 
mercies,  and  the  Crucifix  secures  the  thought  of 
Him  in  every  house  and  chamber.  In  all  these  ways 
He  brings  Himself  before  us.  I  am  not  here  speak- 
ing of  His  gifts  as  gifts,  but  as  memorials ;  not  as 
what  Christians  know  they  convey,  but  in  their  visible 
character;  and  I  say  that,  as  human  nature  itself  is 
still  in  life  and  action  as  much  as  ever  it  was,  so  He 
too  lives,  to  our  imaginations,  by  His  visible  sym- 
bols, as  if  He  were  on  earth,  with  a  practical  efficacy 


47^  Religious  Infercjices. 

which  even  unbelievers  cannot  deny,  to  be  the  -cor- 
rective of  that  nature,  and  its  strength  day  by  day, 
and  that  this  power  of  perpetuating  His  Image, 
being  altogether  singular  and  special,  and  the  pre- 
rogative of  Him  and  Him  alone,  is  a  grand  evidence 
how  well  He  fulfils  to  this  day  that  Sovereign  Mis- 
sion which,  from  the  first  beginning  of  the  world's 
history,  has  been  in  prophecy  assigned  to  Him. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  this  argument  than  by 
recurring  to  a  deep  thought  on  the  subject  of  Chris- 
tianity, Avhich  has  before  now  attracted  the  notice  of 
philosophers  and  preachers,^  as  coming  from  the 
wonderful  man  who  swayed  the  destinies  of  Europe 
in  the  first  years  of  this  century.  It  was  an  argument 
not  unnatural  in  one  who  had  that  special  passion 
for  human  glory,  which  has  been  the  incentive  of  so 
many  heroic  careers  and  of  so  many  mighty  revolu- 
tions in  the  history  of  the  world.  In  the  solitude  of 
his  imprisonment,  and  in  the  view  of  death,  he  is 
said  to  have  expressed  himself  to  the  following 
effect : — 

""  1  have  been  accustomed  to  put  before  me  the 
examples  of  Alexander  and  Cassar,  with  the  hope  of 
rivalling  their  exploits,  and  living  in  the  minds  of 
men  for  ever.  Yet,  after  all,  in  what  sense  does 
Cassar,  in  what  sense  does  Alexander  live  ?  Who 
knows  or  cares  any  thing  about  them  ?  At  best, 
nothing  but  their  names  is  known ;  for  who  among 
the  multitude  of  men,  who  hear  or  who  utter  their 
names,  really  know  any  thing  about  their  lives  or 
their  deeds,  or  attaches  to  those  names  any  definite 

*  Fr.  Lacordairc  and  M,  Nicolas. 


Revealed  Religion,  477 

idea  ?  Nay,  even  their  names  do  but  flit  up  and 
down  the  world  like  ghosts,  mentioned  only  on  par- 
ticular occasions,  or  from  accidental  associations. 
Their  chief  home  is  the  schoolroom ;  they  have  a 
foremost  place  in  boys'  grammars  and  exercise- 
books  ;  they  are  splendid  examples  for  themes  ;  they 
form  writing-copies.  So  low  is  heroic  Alexander 
fallen,  so  low  is  imperial  Cassar,  '  ut  pueris  placeant 
et  declamatio  fiant.' 

"But,  on  the  contrary"  (he  is  reported  to  have 
continued),  ''there  is  just  One  Name  in  the  whole 
world  that  lives ;  it  is  the  Name  of  One  who  passed 
His  years  in  obscurity,  and  who  died  a  malefactor's 
death.  Eighteen  hundred  years  have  gone  since 
that  time,  but  still  it  has  its  hold  upon  the  human 
mind.  It  has  possessed  the  world,  and  it  maintains 
possession.  Amid  the  most  varied  nations,  under 
the  most  diversified  circumstances,  in  the  most  culti- 
vated, in  the  rudest  races  and  intellects,  in  all  classes 
of  society,  the  Owner  of  that  great  Name  reigns. 
High  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  acknowledge  Him. 
Millions  of  souls  are  conversing  with  Him,  are  ven- 
turing on  His  word,  are  looking  for  His  presence. 
Palaces,  sumptuous,  innumerable,  are  raised  to  His 
honor;  His  image,  as  in  the  hour  of  His  deepest 
humihation,  is  triumphantly  displayed  in  the  proud 
city,  in  the  open  country,  in  the  corners  of  streets, 
on  the  tops  of  mountains.  It  sanctifies  the  ancestral 
hall,  the  closet,  and  the  bed-chamber ;  it  is  the  sub- 
ject for  the  exercise  of  the  highest  genius  in  the 
imitative  arts.  It  is  worn  next  the  heart  in  life ;  it 
is  held  before  the  faihng  eyes  in  death.  Here,  then, 
is  One  who  is  not  a  mere  name,  who  is  not  a  mere 


4/8  Religions  Inferences. 

fiction,  Avho  is  a  reality.  He  is  dead  and  gone,  but 
still  He  lives, — lives  as  the  living,  energetic  thought 
of  successive  generations,  as  the  awful  motive-power 
of  a  thousand  great  events.  He  has  done  without 
effort  what  others  with  life-long  struggles  have  not 
done.  Can  He  be  less  than  Divine  ?  Who  is  He 
but  the  Creator  Himself;  who  is  sovereign  over  His 
own  works,  towards  Avhom  our  eyes  and  hearts 
turn  instinctively,  because  He  is  our  Father  and  our 

God  r  ^'- 

Here  I  end  my  specimens,  among  the  many  which 
might  be  given,  of  the  arguments  adducible  for 
Christianity.  I  have  dwelt  upon  them,  in  order  to 
show  how  I  would  apply  the  principles  of  this  Essay 
to  the  proof  of  its  divine  origin.  Christianity  is 
addressed,  both  as  regards  its  evidences  and  its  con- 
tents, to  minds  which  are  in  the  normal  condition  of 
human  nature,  as  believing  in  God  and  in  a  future 
judgment.  Such  minds  it  addresses  both  through 
the  intellect  and  through  the  imagination  ;  creating 
a  certitude  of  its  truth  by  arguments  too  various  for 
enumeration,  too  personal  and  deep  for  words,  too 
powerful  and  concurrent  for  reversal.  Nor  need 
reason  come  first  and  faith  second  (though  this  is  the 
logical  order),  but  one  and  the  same  teaching  is  in 
different  aspects  both  object  and  proof,  and  elicits 
one  complex  act  both  of  inference  and  of  assent.  It 
speaks  to  us  one  by  one,  and  it  is  received  by  us  one 
by  one,  as  the  counterpart,  so  to  say,  of  ourselves, 
and  is  real  as  we  are  real. 

*  Occas.  Serm.,  pp.  49-51. 


Revealed  Religion,  479 

In  the  authoritative  words  of  its  Divine  Author 
and  Object,  *'  He  that  entereth  by  the  door  is  the 
Shepherd  of  the  sheep.  To  Him  the  porter  openeth, 
and  the  sheep  hear  His  voice ;  and  He  calleth  His 
own  sheep  by  name,  and  leadeth  them  out.  But  a 
stranger  they  follow  not,  but  flee  from  him,  for  they 
know  not  the  voice  of  strangers. 

''  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  I  know  Mine,  and 
Mine  know  Me.  My  sheep  hear  My  voice,  and  I 
know  them,  and  they  follow  Me.  And  I  give  them 
everlasting  life,  and  they  shall  never  perish ;  and  no 
man  shall  pluck  them  out  of  My  hand." 


THE   END. 


Works   by    ].    H.    NEWMAN,    D.D. 


DOCTRINAL. 

'^LECTURES   O.V   JUSTIE ICAriON. 

"^ ANNOTATED    TRANSLATION   OE   ST.    ATHANASIUS. 

ESSAYS. 

^  ON  BIBLICAL  AND  ON  ECCLESIASTICAL  MIRACLES. 
*  O.V  THE  DEVELOPMENT  OE  CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE. 
IN  AID  OE  A   GRAMMAR  OE  ASSENT. 

SERMONS. 

'^PAROCHIAL  AND  PLAIN  SERMONS.     8  vols. 

SERMONS  ON  SUBJECTS  OE  THE  DA  Y. 
^' OXEORD   UNIVERSITY  SERMONS. 

SERMOiVS  ADDRESSED    TO  MIXED  CONG  REG  A  TIONS. 

OCCA  SIONAL  SERMONS. 

CONTROVERSIAL. 

LECTURES  ON  DIEEICULTIES  IN  ANGLICANISM. 
LECTURES    ON     THE     STATE     OE     CATHOLICISM    IN 

ENGLAND. 
LETTER     TO    DR.    PUSEY    ON    DEVOTION     TO     THE 

BLESSED    VIRGIN. 


Works  by  J.  //.  lVeu>}jia?i.  D.D, 
HISTORICAL. 

^HISTORY  OF  THE  ARIANS. 

THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  FA  THERS. 
LECTURES  ON  THE   TURKS. 

UxNIVERSITY  EDUCATION. 
NATURE  AND  SCOPE  OF  UNIVERSITY  EDUCATION. 
OFFICE  AND    ]VORK  OF  UNIVERSITIES. 
LECTURES  ON  UNIVERSITY  SUBJECTS. 

TALES. 

LOSS  AND  GAIN. 
CALLISTA. 

PERSONAL. 

HISTORY  OF  MY  RELIGIOUS  OPINIONS  (APOLOGIA). 
VERSES  ON   VARIOUS  OCCASIONS. 

N.B. — The  volumes  marked  with  an  asterisk,  being  written  before 
the  Author  was  a  Catholic,  are  hereby  especially  submitted  in  all 
things  to  the  judgment  of  the  Church. 


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